


Master and Prince

by shadowglove88



Series: Master And... Series [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Culturally Encouraged Sexual Deviance, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - War, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angry Merlin, Attempted Seduction, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Boys Kissing, Camelot, Camelot and Mercia agree to a peace treaty, Camelot is trying to woo Bayard with Morgana, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Court Intrigues, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Creampie, Dark Merlin, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Elemental Magic, Enemy Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, False Identity, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Identity Reveal, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Jealous Arthur, Jealousy, Kissing, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Mercia is trying to woo the knights with Merlin, Mild Painplay, Misunderstandings, Multiple Partners, Neither side really plans on keeping it, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Nipples, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Merlin, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Pining Arthur, Restraints, Rivalry, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sex Magic, Sibling Rivalry, Threesome - M/M/M (Implied), Top Merlin, Unsafe Sex, Violent Sex, Younger Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowglove88/pseuds/shadowglove88
Summary: It'd taken Mercia less than a year to decimate Camelot and its allies, and now Camelot is making a last ditch effort by offering a peace treaty to King Bayard. This brings Merlin to Camelot, to Arthur, where neither side are truly invested in peace.





	1. Chapter 1

 

It'd taken them less than a year to decimate Camelot and its allies, snuffing out their forces brutally until it was more than obvious that until the return of Prince Arthur the Mercians hadn't been giving the war all they'd had. But after news of Camelot's dirty schemes spread, the soldiers had been pissed, the Mercian armies scandalized by such a lowlife way of trying to win a war when loss on the battlefield should be the only true way of victory. And while no one ever dared say it to his face, or say it at all for fear he might overhear, everyone knew that Merlin hadn't been in the war with all his might until that moment either.

The young sorcerer had always been against the war, dreaming of ways to end the conflict as bloodlessly as possible, but after what Arthur and Camelot had done to him something had changed in him. He was dedicated to the war, the sole creator of new spells which would help the cause-no matter the casualties. As King Bayard's Favored One, and due to the many great displays of power, Merlin had always been deeply respected by the Mercians and by the Court in particular...but now they all seemed to worship him and what he'd heard referred to more than once as his 'godlike powers'. If there was something that Mercians treasured, it was strength and power, and he had both.

He also had an advantage.

Arthur would have told the court about him and his power, so now that they thought he was dead - for no human would have ever survived the spell Nimueh had cast on Merlin - Merlin had taken the name his mother had given him: _Emrys_. Unlike before he led his own group of sorcerer warriors into battle, always wearing a mask to hide his identity, and by the end of the day another victory would be allotted to the Mercians over Camelot and her allies.

He sometimes heard his name whispered amongst others at taverns in fear and awe.

Emrys, the King's Sword.

It hadn't come as a surprise to Merlin that Camelot had, after being crippled due to its never-ending vicious defeats on the battlefield, asked for a meeting to discuss a peace treaty. What _had_ surprised the sorcerer was just how quickly they'd managed to swallow their pride and do so. He also admitted to being somewhat disappointed as he had yet to fully vent his anger and frustration, but he kept himself alert as they traveled to Camelot to discuss this peace treaty. Hopefully this was some sort of a trap so he would have the excuse to pulverize the castle from within. That would help his mood considerably.

The thought of seeing Arthur again was enough to cause him to grind his teeth in fury and clench his fists to keep from doing something vicious. He knew that he couldn't attack and kill the prince on sight as he many times daydreamed, and that annoyed him, but King Bayard had let the Court Sorcerer know that he was to be on his best behavior. Apparently there were rumors that the king's illegitimate daughter by his mistress, the beautiful Lady Morgana, was going to be offered to Bayard as a way of permanently aligning the countries and keeping war from ever breaking out between them again. That was the only reason this treaty was even being considered.

If Camelot was that desperate, King Bayard wanted to see them wriggle and beg - and Merlin did too - so he reigned in his anger and spite and prepared himself for what was about to happen. 

He still wasn't sure if he would let those from Camelot know he still lived, toyed with the idea of transforming himself to look differently, but there was just something viciously satisfying in the thought of throwing back in their faces how their High Priestess of the Old Religion hadn't even left a scratch on him.

“I pity them if this is a trap to get us in their territory so they can try to kill us,” Bayard announced with an amused expression as he, Merlin and Owain sat within the royal carriage, soon to finally end their long voyage and arrive at the castle by nightfall.  They'd purposely made the trip from castle to castle as slow as possibly, wanting to make the others squirm for a while.

To be truthful, Merlin knew that Bayard really wasn't contemplating peace. He wanted Camelot, _needed_ Camelot. The fact that victory was almost certain to him now-which even Camelot must realize if their new tactics were anything to go by-only made Bayard more obsessed with the thought of acquiring Camelot and joining it to Mercia.

The only reason he was playing along was most definitely the rumors of Lady Morgana's unsurpassable beauty.

King Bayard had loved his wife whilst she lived, and she had been known to be the most beautiful woman alive. But other than beauty, Bayard had a weakness for cunning, slyness with a dash of devilry (which was probably why he was so fond of Merlin) and Queen Marguerite had been the slyest, most devilish woman to have ever lived. Upon her deathbed she'd made her grieving husband promise that he would never marry a woman less beautiful, cunning, or ruthless than her. 

Considering that no other woman existed, King Bayard had kept his promise and remained unmarried, but now, with word of Lady Morgana's unearthly beauty, he was curious enough to venture from the safety of his own castle to enter the lion's den so to speak, and see this lady for himself. He admitted to Merlin that while she might miraculously live up to Marguerite's standards of beauty he had very little expectation for her to be a quarter of the devil his late wife had been. This trip was merely being made because winning battle after battle was a little boring and he wanted to switch things up a bit before he got stuck in a rut. 

"What if Lady Morgana does in fact live up to the late Queen's devilry?" Merlin chanced the questions no one else would dare ask.

King Bayard scoffed from where he sat, an arm around his manservant, who had fallen asleep during the long ride and was leaning heavily into him. "I doubt that's possible."

"And yet, what if she does?" The King's Sword wanted to know, leaning forwards and speaking softly so as not to bother Owain's rest. "What if she is as beautiful and, spirited, as your late queen?"

King Bayard frowned at the thought and admitted: "I hadn't really considered it as a possibility." His gaze lowered to the top of Owain's head before rising to meet Merlin's. "I would have to go through with it, for I doubt I'd find another like her in my lifetime and I severely need an heir."

"So you would make peace with Camelot?" Merlin made a face at that, unable to understand how exactly Bayard expected to do what must be done without Camelot under his control.

The older man scoffed. "Of course not."

Merlin tilted his head, relieved that the idea of marriage to a beautiful young woman had not addled his king, yet confused as to his reasoning. "But if you marry a daughter of Camelot-."

"If she is half the woman my Marguerite was, she'll be instigating me to cut down that old windbag of a father so she can be queen of a larger realm,” King Bayard assured, smiling with a sigh of nostalgia as he remembered his beloved wife. "My Marguerite was devious and capricious."

"Forgive me, my king, but I can understand why Mercians enjoy pain." Merlin couldn't keep his lips from twitching in amusement. "Their kings have quite a history of seeming quite fond of suffering, especially from their spouses."

"Such sweet sorrow,” Bayard had to admit, smile friendly, before it melted away as he cleared his throat. "Have you decided whether you will be revealing the true identity of The King's Sword?"

Merlin flinched, looking out of the carriage's window. "I'm not sure." He paused for a moment. "It would truly unsettle them all to realize that I live." He smiled at the thought. "They'd either start to doubt Nimueh's loyalty, or the true strength of her powers..." he pursed his lips in contemplation. "Or they'd realize that I'm not human."

"You're half human,” Bayard corrected stuffily, his words biding no counter. "And the half of you who is human is Mercian thanks to your father, so you're my subject, bound to what I say. And I say you're human."

Merlin's lips twitched once more, yet this time with fondness for the man who'd taken him in despite what his mother was, and had made sure he was trained and treated well. While others would have scorned the 'devil's child' if they'd known about his mother, especially after his father's death, Bayard had come for him of his own accord. When Merlin had been trapped in the most nightmarish of circumstances the King (one of the only people who did know the truth of Merlin's heritage) had given him freedom and a future. From that moment onwards Merlin had known he'd grow up to serve Bayard. The king had looked past Merlin's mother, had seen the greatness the child could possess, and Merlin would never be able to repay him for the kindness shown to him when he'd been a scared child. In an effort to try and repay all that he had been granted, Merlin had given his magical, unbreakable oath to use his magic to serve Bayard to the day the king died, and he strived to make sure that his guardian died a peaceful death of old age, surrounded by loved ones. 

"Merlin..." Bayard cleared his throat as he rearranged Owain so he was more comfortably rested against him. "You know that I believe in giving you as much independence and freedom to choose what you do with your personal life, but I've known you since you weren't taller than my hip and as your self-appointed guardian and king I feel the need to express my concerns over your… solitude."

Merlin frowned, having known this would be brought up sooner or later, but he’d erroneously believed that the distraction of playing Camelot like fools would’ve kept Bayard busy and would ensure himself a while longer without the King coming to him with this issue. And yes, it _was_ an issue, but it wasn’t one that Merlin wanted to think about, much less talk about, right now.

“My concern is not merely aimed at how you've been choosing to handle what that princeling did to you. That solitude extended to before you met him and had an acceptable excuse to sequester yourself in your chambers, but it has gotten worse of late.” Bayard eyebrow raised as he caught Merlin’s gaze and kept it with his mere authority. "You've always been a solitary creature, do not think I do not understand it is not only in your nature but as well the sort of nurture you received from childhood. First your father kept you apart from the rest of the world in fear that they would realize that you were more than just an incredible sorcerer… and then... and then while in my care your powers astounded all and they tended to put you on a pedestal, were too intimidated and awed by the power you held in your hands to try befriend you."

The sorcerer sighed and ducked his head.

"It's why I gave you that princeling unknowingly. He was beautiful, and you needed a companion,” the King continued. "You've had lovers, yes, but you have never been serious with any of them. I wanted you to feel what it was like to have a companion, someone you were forced to keep with you at all times, someone who might be able to get behind those walls you have. I figured, with how terrified the princeling was at the brutality Valiant and his minions tried to inflict on him, that he’d form an attachment to you due to just how different you were to him, especially considering your part in the fact that the rape was not able to get as far as anal penetration. I believed his looks, his age, his innocence and his gratitude for saving him - I believed he might - and after your treatment of each other during the ritual I thought I had succeeded. Yet despite my good intentions I only ended up hurting you. I accidentally showed you exactly why it would be safer for you to not only keep those walls up but build them higher even.” He looked very tired all of a sudden. “And for that I am truly sorry." 

"It's not your fault!" Merlin looked up at his father figure, eyes wide. "No one could have guessed the depths of Camelot's schemes."

"I am reluctant to admit it, but it was an impressive scheme,” Bayard admitted, shaking his head. "I never would have thought Uther would risk his heir's safety like that, but I suppose they realized that and used it against us."

Merlin's gaze went out of the window once more, that darkness growing in him as he was reminded of just how much of a fool he’d been for the blonde. He was supposed to be Mercia’s protector, and yet thanks to his weakness, his blindness, his _feelings_ , he’d become its greatest security leak. The sorcerer could not even remember all of the things he’d shared with Arthur during their times together. He’d been warmed, happy and grateful that Arthur was willing to listen to his worries, that he wanted to hear about Merlin’s day - but looking back on those memories while knowing that Arthur had merely been using him to gather intel… Merlin felt like such a _fool_.

"What I am trying to say, Merlin," Bayard continued, "is that you need to take a companion, a lover. One of your own choosing. It matters not who it is, as long as you do. You cannot allow that princeling to ruin the good that came out of your brief time together." He smiled sadly. "For a moment in time, you were a different, happier, Merlin."

The sorcerer turned to look at his king, touched speechless by the obvious emotion in that face and voice. He still could not believe that Bayard had not blamed him for being duped by Arthur, for the potential danger his blindness had put the kingdom in. It made his already loyal heart even more loyal, to his king.

"I want to see _that_ Merlin again,” the Mercian monarch demanded loftily. "See to it that he returns."  

The younger male just looked at his father-figure and smiled softly, nodding. "I will work on it as soon as we return to Mercia."

"Good boy." Bayard smiled, absolutely pleased. "And if this Lady Morgana performs a miracle and lives up to my Marguerite's standards, you should broaden your horizons to Camelot as well..." He grinned evilly. "It will become Mercia's either way."

Merlin smiled a little viciously, nodding. "Yes, my lord."

"Good boy." The king nodded, before suddenly bringing his hand to his chest in a wince.

Merlin frowned, worried. "My king?"

"It is nothing,” Bayard insisted, raising his hand to stop Merlin from coming to sit next to him. "Just a little excitement, that is all."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you do this previously,” Merlin murmured slowly, trying to push back the worry that threatened to show on his face, knowing the king would not appreciate it one bit.

"I am fine Merlin." Bayard opened his eyes and took in a deep breath, chin raised. "Now as your king I demand you drop the subject."

His oath kept him unable to disobey any direct command from the king, so Merlin nodded silently, letting the issue die despite his worry. He would talk to Owain in private later once the king was distracted. Bayard would not appreciate the fact that his manservant and lover was secretly helping Merlin keep tabs on Bayard's help. In fact, Merlin was quite sure the king would accuse them both of conspiring against him in order to 'make him feel old'. They'd been accused of that already given how protective they both were of him, and Bayard had pouted and been sulky for weeks on end until Owain had finally managed to soothe over his damaged ego.

Merlin stared out of the window, still debating how he was going to handle The King’s Sword identity, and considering that he still wasn't sure by the time they arrived at the castle he magicked a mask of shadows against his skin. He wore his blackest cloak, hood over his head, and enchanted his eyes so that they glowed a light red from deep within the shadows, giving him that ominous, monstrous look others whispered about. It didn't exactly mean that he wasn't going to reveal his identity later on, but for now he preferred the anonymity the mask gave him. 

His emotions warred inside of him as he followed the king into the throne room, where Uther and his queen sat upon their thrones, Nimueh standing at Igraine's side and... and Arthur standing at his father's.

It took Merlin all his self-control to keep from faltering as his gaze fell upon Arthur, who was dressed up in all the regalia of a prince, face blank. But somehow the sorcerer was able to do so, walking only a step behind his king, proving to all his high position in the court.

"Welcome to Camelot, King Bayard." King Uther stood from his throne, motioning towards another throne and set of regal-looking seats which been arranged for them. "Please, sit, you have come from far and must be tired."

King Bayard turned to Merlin and raised an eyebrow. They'd spoken of what to do once this moment arrived. T hey were to demonstrate the immense power Merlin possessed, and by doing so not only warned King Uther without words that they weren't to be played with, but proved they were not vulnerable despite being in enemy territory. 

The sorcerer raised his hand, palm extending towards the guest throne and seating area, his magic transforming them into versions of themselves which were even grander than the ones Uther and his wife sat upon. It was a clear affront, letting the King of Camelot know that they were the ones with the true power in this situation, as well as issuing a reminder so that Camelot’s monarchs did not forget it.

Feeling an angered glare on him as he escorted Bayard to the throne, Merlin sent a discreet glance towards the monarchs of Camelot.

Arthur's face was blank, but his eyes were dark and furious and filled with hate.

For a moment Merlin wondered if Arthur knew who he was, and that made him smirk slightly evilly at the thought, but then he realized that the hatred in those blue eyes wasn't hatred from someone who knew you. No. The hatred Arthur had for him was the hatred he'd have for the faceless King's Sword who'd decimated so many of Camelot's troops and singlehandedly was behind the fall of Camelot… the reason why they had to humble themselves the way they were now.

That smirk grew on Merlin's face as he took his place standing next to his king. 

He allowed his gaze to go to Nimueh, the witch who'd tried unsuccessfully to kill him. This was the first time he'd really had a good look at her, and it wasn't because because of his hatred towards her and her alliance with Camelot, but he felt a little disappointed. Somehow he'd expected the High Priestess of the Old Religion to be a little _more_.

"----Emrys, my Court Sorcerer and Right Hand,” King Bayard announced, answering something King Uther had clearly said or asked while Merlin had been distracted eyeing Nimueh. "Prince Arthur knew the man he replaced. So did your High Priestess."

The barb to their past was fierce and stung. Merlin noticed the way both Arthur and Nimueh flinched at the reminder of the assassination they didn't know hadn't been successful.

The King's Sword didn't speak, didn't even truly listen to the conversation between the monarchs, didn't pay attention to the entertainment, didn't partake of the food. His eyes were forever vigilant, expecting an attack in any form, watchful on the food tasters should they collapse due to poison. The issue of their peace treaty wasn't brought up that night, instead public relations and entertainment showered, no doubt in an effort to lower their guard.

Merlin felt eyes on him, and it made him uneasy, expecting an attack any moment, and yet he traced the stare to a young male in the crowds. He looked around sixteen, with dark hair and intense blue eyes that were trained on Merlin. The older male could sense the magic coming from this one, it seemed like that of a druid, earthly and natural. It was said that Uther's mistress was a druid and that was why he had such strong ties with them, apprenticing many of their strongest sons in Camelot.

‘ _Emrys,_ ' a voice whispered in his head, those eyes meeting his.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, admittedly impressed that the boy had been able to get around the barrier he'd placed in his mind. Sure, it hadn't been a particularly strong barrier, but others hadn't managed to break through until tonight.

' _My people have prophecies of you_.'

He didn't answer, instead looking away and feigning disinterest should this be some sort of trick or trap, but he had to admit that he was intrigued, and whenever his gaze found the boy he was watching him.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who noticed this, as when he escorted Owain and the king to their quarters later that night, searching the whole area for any magical traps, Bayard made mention of it.

"He was cute, don't you think?" The King smirked as Owain began to wordlessly disrobe him. "Young and nubile and clearly in awe of Emrys the King's Sword.” He turned that smirk on Owain. “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”

A smile tugged on Owain’s lips yet he continued to do his duties. “I might have noticed it once or twice.”

Bayard pointed to Owain as if this was all the confirmation he needed that this was a spectacular idea.

"He's a druid,” Merlin mumbled, satisfied to not find any magical weavings anywhere, setting up his own protections around this room and his king. With a flick of his wrist he transported the tub with hot water waiting in the room to some field somewhere and instead brought the one from the king’s own room in Mercia, filling it with warm, flower-filled water."If Camelot's non-magical sons are crafty and have no honor as to how they fight or win, I want nothing to do with their magically inclined ones."

"Well, when I make this kingdom mine, I'll give him to you,” King Bayard decided stubbornly as he gave Owain a playful slap on his behind, pushing him towards the tub.

"Because _that_ did not end in tragedy last time." Merlin snorted, wondering whether Bayard would even wait for him to leave the room to start his ‘unwinding’.

The king watched his manservant head to the divider behind the tub, his outline visible as he started to disrobe. Then, realizing he’d been caught ogling, Bayard turned a sheepish grin on Merlin, completely at ease despite merely wearing his under-trousers. "I'd hope that my taste for your men wouldn't be so horrible as to choose _two_ disasters."

Merlin couldn't help but smirk. "You shouldn't have a taste for my men, my king. Let me choose them."

“ _Him_ ," King Bayard reminded immediately with a raise of his bushy eyebrows. "I want you to settle down, remember that."

Merlin smirked deeper, amused at the fact that Bayard was telling him to settle down while currently itching to join his manservant in the tub despite the fact that he was here supposedly to find himself a queen. Then again, 'settling down' meant something very different for Mercians than it did for the other realms. “Yes, my king."

"Good. Good." Bayard shooed him away, already making his way to where Owain was undressing. "Now go, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Merlin nodded and bowed, leaving the room, but not before he heard Owain squeak as Bayard dove in after him behind the divider.

Amused and glad that his king was in such high spirits, Merlin retired to the room he’d use while there, and after making triple sure no spells or charms or magic other than his own were in the room, he collapsed into bed, mentally exhausted.

He was also hungry, very hungry. He’d fed before making the trip but he’d underestimated his near lack of control, stress burning through his reserves, making him hungry, hungry, _hungry_. He wanted to feed, but they were in Camelot and things were different, difficult, here, for him to find a satisfactory meal.  

A knock sounded on the door. 

His magic surged out, investigating the one on the other side, finding a young man there, older than Arthur by a couple of years. There wasn’t an ounce of magic in him, and he had the build of a warrior, most probably a knight. There was not a hint of a weapon on his person, but there _was_ a plate of fruit in his hands though.

Intrigued, wondering if they’d sent this man in to poison him, Merlin spelled his mask back on before he allowed the stranger entrance, getting a good look at the strawberry blonde, who was ruggedly handsome and most definitely a Knight of Camelot despite the fact that he was not wearing his chainmail or armor. Even in civilian attire, holding a plate of fruit, this man was most definitely a fighter.

“Apologies for interrupting,” the young man declared as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I thought you might want some grapes to snack on in the night should you get hungry.”

Slowly rising from the bed, Merlin eyed the man, who was his same height. The sorcerer moved closer, and when he spoke, the spell on him made his voice gravelly, which accentuated the dark amusement in his tone. “How _interesting_ that King Uther sent one of his own _knights_ to do a _servant’s_ job.”

The man flinched and looked away for a split second before his gaze returned to Merlin. “I wasn’t told — I — I came of my own volition.” 

If it weren’t for the flush making its way down that already rosy skin, Merlin would call him on bullshit, but as he drew closer he could practically _smell_ the arousal on the knight who’d obviously done his very best to disguise what he truly was. “Oh, did you come to the room of the Mercian King’s Sword of your own accord?” He leaned in closer, purposely leaning into his space. “And why would you do that?”

“My name is Geraint, and I have seen you in battle, Emrys, the King’s Sword,” the man replied in answer. 

“And you lived?” Merlin asked in genuine surprise as he eyed the knight in intrigue. Considering he’d been slaughtering all those around him during battle he was shocked that there’d been survivors, especially any brave enough to come face him on their own. 

“I was already injured by the time you found me, nearly dead, quite a few of us were,” Geraint explained, voice low. “You said it wouldn’t be fun to kill me since someone else had already done the job.” His grip on the plate of grapes was trembling. “So you—-.”

“I what?” Merlin pushed.

“You really do not remember?” The man asked softly. 

“What did I do to you?” Merlin many times had found himself lost in the frenzy of the battle. While fighting he was finally allowed to vent his anger and frustration without having to hold back, and there were actual battles which he truly did not remember. 

“Y-you healed me, healed us all,” the man responded with a gulp, seeming unable to meet his eyes. “How can you not remember the Battle of Drayton?”

Merlin’s eyes widened as suddenly he remembered, maybe not this knight in particular, but that night in general. It had been an event brought on by circumstances mostly out of Merlin’s control. What had started out as another bloody battle with the victory to Mercian had somehow ended up with the surviving knights of Camelot healed and rutting desperately with the same Mercians they’d been fighting moments ago. Magic even Merlin could not contain, control, had fueled the event and feasted as enemies who’d been slaughtering each other mere moments ago found themselves piercing each other’s bodies in completely unexpected ways.

“We survived. We were the largest group who came up against Mercians in battle to do so, and yet we could never explain _how_  we survived,” Geraint whispered. “We’ve claimed to have forgotten that whole battle, like youapparently, genuinely, did.”

Merlin tilted his head, truly not remembering this soldier despite apparently having left quite the mark on him. “Is this your attempt at revenge, then?” He slapped the plate out of the man’s hands and paid no mind to it as it shattered on the floor, sending the fruit flying wildly as he pinned the knight against the wall. Pressing his forearm hard against his throat, Merlin whispered darkly in his ear. “You will have to do better than poisoned _fruit_.”  And then Merlin felt it, the hardness straining against him. He gentled his press against that throat, allowing Geraint some air as he slowly rubbed his cock against Geraint’s throbbing member. “Or maybe you are here for a different reason altogether.” The arm not pressed against Geraint’s throat reached down the strawberry blonde’s back to cup and squeeze his ass painfully.

A choked sound escaped Geraint’s parted lips as he grabbed Merlin by his robes, his arousal so thick it permeated the air.

“Did I play with you personally, Geraint?” Merlin whispered into his ear as he insinuated a leg between his. “I don’t remember but I think I might have given how wet the front of your trousers are getting.” He could see why he’d target this man. He was a blonde knight from Camelot who was close to the right age and close enough to the right build. This man would’ve definitely served as an outlet, a substitute, to allow Merlin to punish Arthur, even if indirectly. Also, he was Merlin’s type.

“I’d always wondered if maybe I was—-but Camelot doesn’t approve of—” Geraint whimpered instead of answering Merlin’s question. “And then you, and I——.”

“Did you like it, Geraint?” Merlin chuckled into the strawberry blonde’s ears, feeling him shiver as Merlin slipped his hand down into the back of his pants to squeeze his bare ass. “Men?” He grinned as his index finger slid threateningly down the cleft. “ _Pain_?” His finger broke through the tight ring, causing Geraint to cry out and clasp onto him harder. “If you stay here any longer you’re going to feel it, a lot of it,” he promised, able to feel the person drawing near. “I’m going to have company in a minute and he has a fetish for pinning and taking pretty things like you against hard surfaces, be they walls, floors…” He leaned in closer. “… _other men_.”

Geraint held on tighter with a loud sob that greeted Sir Ethan when the knight knocked on the door and it opened up to him immediately.

It would never be explicitly explained  _why_ Sir Ethan had come to see Merlin, although the sorcerer could guess given the fact that he’d brought a bottle of wine with him. The older Mercian smiled at the sight before him, and when Merlin motioned him over he locked the door behind him, put down the bottle of wine, and started to undress.

Geraint didn’t leave until very early the next morning, and even then it was only after asking Sir Ethan where his room was situated within the castle and making sure to repeat it under his breath as he left.

Given that Geraint was far from the last survivor of the Battle of Drayton to find his courage to make the trip to Merlin’s room (with food, drink, or other excuses to get themselves in the door), the sorcerer did not go hungry or unsatisfied during the rest of his stay in Camelot.

 

* * *

 

The introduction of Lady Morgana to King Bayard was not as subtle as Merlin thought it could have been. The beautiful woman, with shimmering black hair and intense green eyes had been given to them as a guide. While Uther entertained the Mercian Court during the nights as best as someone from Camelot could, his daughter spent the days showing Bayard around the court and the kingdom itself, even going on horseback to the outermost parts, both always accompanied by her younger brother and Merlin, who acted as both protectors and chaperones.

Merlin had at first expected these trips to be the moment they’d be ambushed, but the ambush never came. He didn’t let his guard down, but _had_ lowered it enough to concentrate on the actual kingdom, as well as their guide and her brother. The druid boy from the first night in Camelot was named Mordred, and he was not only the Lady Morgana’s brother, but King Uther’s illegitimate son by his druid mistress. This, of course, meant Mordred was Arthur’s brother as well. Merlin wondered how the boy felt about the way he and his sister were treated as bargaining tools, and wondered if they could use it against King Uther in the future.

The sorcerer spent his nights whispering into the ears of those who came to his room, but during the day he listened intently to every word uttered by the Lady Morgana and her brother, the young Lord Mordred. These two were most definitely assigned to them by King Uther for some dubious reason - were most probably distractions and spies - but Merlin found that he was gleaning more from them than they could’ve possibly from him. 

_I have learnt my lesson in that regards._

King Bayard and Lady Morgana walked ahead, arm in arm, conversing quite friendly to each other, while Merlin and Mordred were relegated to the back, acting as chaperones and not guardians today given that this was merely a stroll around the castle itself.

"Did you know the prince while he was in Mercia?" Mordred finally broke the silence between them as he sent Merlin a sideways glance. He was usually fine with silence, and likewise seemed happy to talk when asked something, yet this was the first question he had actually initiated conversation.

"I didn't know him,” Merlin replied truthfully. While he might have thought once upon a time that he had, he truly hadn't known Arthur. "I saw him, I knew of him, and I interacted with him, but know him? No."

"Did you know of this Merlin? The one who was his master?" Mordred wanted to know, sending his sister a look that clearly betrayed that he wasn’t supposed to be asking this but was rebelling and didn’t want her to realize it. He quickly returned his blue eyes to Merlin, his voice a little lower than before as he leaned in closer. “He must have been an incredible man to have forced the prince to submit so fully. No one speaks about it, not really, but we've heard the rumors."

Still wearing his shadowy disguise, Merlin raised an eyebrow, wondering exactly what the people of Camelot thought they knew. "Rumors."

"That the prince wasn't exactly _forced_ ,” Mordred replied easily, not seeming bothered by the homosexual relationship like most people from Camelot apparently did. Unlike Mercia, who enjoyed the male form freely and without any sort of judgment - Camelot was incredibly self-righteous and _prudish_. Mordred cleared his throat and leaned in even closer. “The man the prince would submit to willingly intrigues me, even if he's dead."

"We don't speak about him. He's dead and gone,” the sorcerer replied curtly. "You have your prince and High Priestess to thank for that."

"I'm sure you're not exactly crying tears of sadness over his death,” another voice announced, hostility deep in his tone, as Prince Arthur appeared from one of the hallways. "You quickly appeared and took his place as the Court Sorcerer."

"Prince Arthur." Mordred bowed his head yet didn’t seem too surprised at his sudden appearance. 

Arthur sneered at Mordred before turning his dark eyes on Merlin once more. "So you're the famed King's Sword, the Butcher of Mercia, the Devil's Hound."

"Devil's Hound?" Merlin smirked, glad that the spell changed his voice slightly. "That's a new one. I hadn't heard of that one as yet." His smirk grew. "I like it."

Arthur nearly snarled, it was clearly taking him every bit of his self control to not punch him - or at least _try_ to punch him - no way would Merlin’s magic allow his fist to actually hit. "I'll have you know that I don't care about father and his ideas, the thought of aligning our houses sickens me to the bone. The knowledge that you get to spend countless days traipsing around my castle, my kingdom, corrupting everything and everyone around you with your mere presence… while I am unable to do anything about it… it _disgusts me._ ”

Merlin sneered, taking a menacing step forwards. Apparently this was the true Arthur, his _true_ feelings, towards Mercia and all those within. It helped harden Merlin further and further. "You seem to forget your place, young Prince. Everyone in Mercia knows it, and I'm sure many in Camelot already do as well. Your place is on your knees with your ass in the air."

Fury blazed through Arthur's eyes as his clenched fists trembled. "You dare insult me in my own kingdom?" His voice lowered dangerously. "Do you wish to die, Court Sorcerer?"

"Not particularly, as I'm sure you don't either,” he replied coolly, thinking of the many dreams he’d had of killing Arthur ever since the truth of his nature had been revealed to him. "But not everyone gets their wish of a peaceful death. We should ask Merlin about it. But we cannot, thanks to you and your little priestess."

Those clenched fists trembled harder as Arthur's voice went hoarse. " _You don't know what you're talking about._ You don't know **anything**!"

"Prince Arthur!" Lady Morgana snapped from up ahead, both her and King Bayard having turned around at the sound of his escalating voice.

Arthur flinched at her loud reproach, yet he refused to look away from Merlin, to back down. At least his stubbornness had been one thing about him that had been real. One thing at least. "I detest you."

Merlin chuckled darkly, hating the fact that a part of him still recoiled at those words. He pushed down that tiny part of the old Merlin, the weak Merlin, the _stupid_ Merlin, and instead embraced the dark fire coursing through his veins as he leaned in closer to whisper so that only the blonde could hear him. "I already knew that."

Arthur's eyes narrowed in confusion for a split second before filling with fury once more.

"Is everything alright here, Emrys?" Bayard made his way towards him, purposely ignoring the prince's presence.

"Of course, My King." Merlin smiled, giving his monarch a respectful bow of the head.

"King Bayard." Arthur turned to the older man, looking less furious than he had moments ago, but far more determined. "If we are to believe that your desires for peace are genuine, I feel it counterproductive of you to have your sorcerer hidden so. How are we to trust if we have yet to even see his face?”

" _Prince_ _Arthur_." Lady Morgana glared at him warningly, which kind of shocked Merlin because as the mistress' daughter he would have thought her so much more below Arthur in status that she wouldn't be allowed to speak to him so disapprovingly.  Then again, she like the others knew that their only hope was in Bayard falling into their trap and marrying her, thus securing an alliance.

"Now you listen here you little..." Bayard began, obviously having had it with the prince.

"My Liege," Merlin placed a hand on Bayard's shoulder, "the boy prince brings forth a credible accusation,and _we_ have nothing to hide."

King Bayard eyed Merlin before nodding, giving his consent.

Whispering the spell to remove the shadow-mask, Merlin didn't hesitate before reaching up and lowering his hood, revealing his face for the first time in a very long time. He raised his chin in defiance as his gaze, blue once more now that the shadow mask was gone, surveyed the shocked siblings before resting on Arthur.

Horror and confusion mixed visibly on Arthur's face, and he looked like he was having trouble breathing. All fury disappeared as that confusion quickly mounted. He paled, his lips parted, and his breathing grew erratic. 

Lady Morgana finally broke the hushed silence which had befallen the group, drawing his attention to her when she declared: "You are very young, Court Sorcerer.”

Mordred just eyed him silently.

" _Merlin_?" Arthur finally spoke, whispered, voice hoarse and disbelieving, like that of a lost child being told there was no way to return home. His face had gone completely ashen by now, his expression shocked and confused and oddly enough _hurt_.

Merlin sneered, raising an eyebrow at the prince before giving a mockery of a bow, disgust obvious on his face. "Your Highness."

Arthur flinched at the pet name Merlin had once had for him, eyes filling with unshed tears, proving once more how good he was at putting on a show. " _How_ -? I-I thought you were-."

"Dead?" Merlin's lips curled in an ugly smile. "Obviously your High Priestess isn't as powerful as you gave her credit, especially considering that Camelot's sudden desire for peace with Mercia has nothing to do with the actual desire for it, but the _need_ for it." He took a step towards Arthur, staring down into those uniquely hued eyes he'd once treasured, but which now made him disgusted, made him furious, made him violent. "Next time you try to kill someone, little prince, make sure you have the right tools to do so."

For a second Arthur seemed lost in a trance as he stared up into Merlin’s face as it drew nearer, but then Merlin’s words must’ve filtered in because sudden horror quickly flooded over his countenance as his features scrunched in what was _almost_ convincingly real panicked disbelief. _Almost._ "Merlin you can't think that I-!” He reached out for Merlin, but was cut short when the sorcerer viciously slapped his hand away before the prince could touch him.

"Don't presume any familiarity with me, Prince Arthur,” Merlin warned coldly, taking a step away from him in a need to put distance between them before he did something that would start a war. The sorcerer sneered at the prince in growing (and almost overwhelming) disgust. "The only reason I am here is on orders of my king, as well as to make sure your kind don't try another underhanded, desperate attempt to try and win this losing battle." His eyes flashed red in his barely concealed fury as finally he was able to confront the person who'd hurt him the most in his whole life, his betrayer. "If it was left to me, you and your whole castle would be in flames."

All around them, unbidden, projections of his words were projected in the air. Images of Camelot destroyed and on fire surrounded them, the screams of the people within echoing with horrifying promise.

Lady Morgana gasped, eyes wide, as she looked around her at the circle of hell that seemed to have enclosed around them.

Mordred didn't visibly react other than to take in the dark scenes being portrayed on his every side.

Arthur, on the other hand, looked sick and pale as he peered upon the deaths and disaster, before turning to Merlin. "Stop it Merlin. Stop it. This isn't like you!"

The sorcerer didn't react to those words except to curl his lips in an ugly smile, the visions growing in intensity.

"Emrys." King Bayard only said his name, but it was enough for Merlin to regain control of his anger and hurt and fury, disintegrating the nightmares around them, once more without even muttering a word.

"Forgive me, My King." Merlin gave a respectful, half bow to his monarch. "Shall we continue towards the gardens? You were very interested in seeing the famed Queen's Rose."

King Bayard nodded, offering his arm to Lady Morgana.

The beautiful woman eyed him shrewdly before nodding, sending a sideways glance in Merlin's and Arthur's direction before taking the king's arm and beginning to lead him away, once more falling into conversation with the much older man.

Arthur turned to Merlin.

Merlin turned to Mordred, bestowing a suave smile to the younger male, motioning ahead of him.

Mordred eyed him for a second before smirking and turning to Arthur. "By your leave, Prince Arthur." He then turned to Merlin and began leading him away.

Merlin listened halfheartedly to Mordred commenting on a statue they neared, his eyes on the youngest male, yet his attention truly on the blonde they'd left behind, who was watching them in silence.

 

* * *

 

The news of his true identity leaked very quickly into the Camelot Royal Court, and within what seemed like less than half an hour or so Merlin realized that the terrified looks he’d alreadybeen receiving had doubled. Everyone in the Court seemed more terrified of him now than when he'd been a mysterious figure in a cloak with glowing red eyes surrounded by thick darkness. Merlin kept his hood off, not seeing the need to use it anymore, and the rest of the day the sorcerer was darkly pleased by the whispers and looks of fear. He'd noticed Nimueh watching him at the feast thrown that night, the High Priestess obviously very disturbed and confused. King Uther as well proved very disturbed by this turn of events, and not only did he keep sending Bayard and Merlin worried, pale looks, but his eyes would sometimes narrow on the High Priestess as well, as if beginning to question her competence. 

It couldn't be going better.

Arthur must have been trying to intimidate Merlin somehow, or maybe prove that he wasn't intimidated by this turn of events, because all throughout the festivities, entertainment, and food, the young prince never once took his gaze off of Merlin.

The sorcerer never once gazed in the golden youth's direction, but he could feel the weight of that stare. It reminded him of nights in Mercia when he would be awake, going over documents and such at his desk in his room, under the light of his candles. Arthur would sometimes wake up in the bed they shared and spend hours just watching him, thinking he was doing it discreetly, but Arthur's gaze had always been as obvious to Merlin as the blazing sun on a cloudless day. The foolish sorcerer had once thought that it was one of the many subtle 'signs' that Arthur truly felt something for him, but he knew better now.

While Merlin was making plans, trying to figure out how the end the war as peacefully as possible, Arthur had been making plans as well, trying to figure out how to end Merlin's life as quickly as possible.

The memory was enough to refuel the hatred that welled deep inside of the sorcerer, as if it'd needed refueling.

Merlin's gaze was never really on the entertainment, keeping an eye on his king, protecting him.

Bayard seemed to realize that Camelot was kissing his ass big time, and was enjoying it greatly.

That made Merlin's lips twist in an amused smile.

Also, Bayard seemed to be growing somewhat fond of the beautiful Lady Morgana, and Merlin wondered if he would grow fond enough before they returned to Mercia to go against his promise to his Queen and take Lady Moraga as wife. No matter how much Merlin tried, he couldn't see King Uther's illegitimate daughter having the capabilities of being as dark and sharp and cut-throat as the late Mercian Queen.

Speaking of Lady Morgana, unlike the rest of Camelot, she and her brother seemed more intrigued with Merlin than terrified.  Ever since the truth of his identity had been revealed to them, Merlin had caught both siblings staring at him, deep in thought. Mordred was more silent than his sister, his expression usually quite blank, making Merlin curious as to what exactly was going on in the druid's mind. Lady Morgana on the other hand seemed to quite enjoy whatever it was she was thinking, because throughout the night Merlin caught her eyeing him with a sly tilt of her full, red lips.

While he'd always had a preference towards males, if Lady Morgana hadn't apparently captured his king's attention Merlin would have made it his mission to get to know the beautiful maiden more intimately.

_Not that I will have a problem finding someone to warm my bed tonight._

Interestingly enough, even without the ‘pilgrims’, Merlin knew that he could easily find someone to sate himself in tonight. There were both men and women of the court sending him looks, as were numerous serving wenches and manservants. The more he looked, the more options presented themselves around him.

One he knew would welcome him was young Mordred himself. The boy mightn't have been the most emotional of people, but he was emotive, and Merlin not only sensed the attraction in the youth...but was attracted to the thought of the anger Arthur would feel if Merlin took his younger, half brother.

That was almost enough for him to lean in and whisper an invitation into the druid's ear, but Merlin held back. Mordred might have been courteous and attentive, but he was from Camelot, and Merlin had no intention of involving himself with anyone from this accursed royal bloodline.

He'd sooner see the kingdom burnt to the ground.

Bayard’s gaze caught his over the table, clear boredom in his eyes at the entertainment they were being showered with. Camelot could not truly believe they could entertain Mercians with these sappy plays and boring minstrels, could they? Even Mercian children would be bored with this display. In fact, as Merlin glanced around the room, he could pick out each and every Mercian immediately even if he hadn’t known them personally, and it was because every Mercian was either as visibly bored as their king, or looked absolutely frustrated with having to continually put up with this every night.

Sighing, Merlin leaned back against his seat, maintaining Bayard’s gaze while tilting his head in a ‘what would you have me do’ move. 

‘ _Anything_ ,’ Bayard was desperate enough to mouth.

Amused, and with free range to push Camelot’s boundaries and test their welcoming of the Mercians, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as the lights went incredibly dim in mere seconds, causing a ruckus of cries and confusion in those of Camelot. But before anyone - even Nimueh - could react, his eyes glowed in the darkness once more, and all around them, sparks flew from the dim torches as the castle began to echo with continuous thuds.

Everyone’s eyes turned to the sparks as they took a sentience, a life, of their own, becoming phantom-like waifs so realistic one might believe them real were it not for their slight transparency, and the way they glowed with an inner light. They were beautiful, curvaceous maids, and lithe, fae-like young men, their indecency barely covered as they undulated their bodies seductively, moving to the beat of the drumming echoing throughout the castle.

Someone wolf-whistled and yelled out in appreciation, it sounded a lot like Sir Wendell. 

As if given life by that sound, soft music played faintly in the background, the drums truly the loudest sound as the fire sprites made their way around the fascinated room. They took a life of their own as they fed from Merlin’s memory of a different kingdom welcoming them with exotic dancers from far away, this kingdom much more suited for Mercia in so many ways. The barely clothed dancers Simon had presented to them had serpentined, each movement a tease, an imitation of more and more risqué sexual acts, positions, promises. These fire sprites embodied those dancers’ seduction, the small bells tied at their hips ringing lightly, accentuating each shimmy and hip roll as they leaned back and undulated all through their body.

Bare feet barely touched the floor as they twirled, danced, shimmied their bodies as they invaded onlookers’ personal spaces only to slip out of touch teasing when a few brave souls tried to reach out and touch them.

Merlin sat back and smiled, pleased with the mixture of scandal and awe that filled the room. He’d very easily shown up not only the hosts, but their High Priestess, and a very dark part of him was more pleased with how badly they looked in comparison than he was at the success of his own work. 

Lady Morgana leaned out of her seat to grab the hand of the pretty serving wench standing slightly behind her, both women sharing openly awed smiles before returning their gazes to the fiery display.

Everyone’s gaze were on the creatures of fire. 

Everyone’sgaze but one.

It was the same gaze that hadn’t left him since he’d revealed his true face.

Ignoring Arthur Pendragon, Merlin shared a smile with Bayard and leaned back to enjoy the majesty of his own creation.

 

* * *

 

"Lady Morgana and young Mordred both seem very taken with your power,” Bayard announced after they retired to his room, expression thoughtful. After the fire sprites had evaporated into the darkness, Merlin had allowed the lights to return, and while Camelot had clearly been shocked by what they’d just witnessed, the royals hadn’t said anything about their entertainment being hijacked, although Uther _did_ keep shifting uncomfortably in his seat and sending his wife guilty looks when she wasn’t paying any attention to him. Bayard, of course, had enjoyed the entertainment, as well as its consequences. “And she hasn't truly come out and said anything, but from certain word choices and such, I do believe that she isn't overly fond of Camelot or the Royal Court."  

"She's the daughter of the King's Mistress,” Merlin reminded, not too surprised by this. "Not every wife is accepting of the child of their husband with another woman.” That was true even in Mercia. While it was common practice for the men to find pleasure in each other - as did the women - it was much more frowned upon for those pleasures to be found in the opposite sex should one of the partners already be married.

Bayard paused, sending Merlin a look. "When Balinor returned with you Hunith happily overlooked the transgression because it gave her you, the child she'd been unable to have yet yearned for."

Merlin gulped and looked away. "And yet I've been nothing but pain for her."

"Do not say that." Bayard frowned. "We will find an end to the enchantment over her. You will free her, Merlin."

"Father is already dead." Merlin's gaze went to the window. "For all my godlike power I was unable to save him, or keep the woman I loved as a mother from being cursed and trapped the way she was." He closed his eyes tightly. "It is my fault she was hurt."

"No." Bayard shook his head, coming towards Merlin and placing his hand on his sorcerer's shoulder, squeezing reassuring. "None of this is your fault. You were just a child." He took in a slow breath. "I do not like speaking ill of the dead, but if anyone is at fault, it was your father."

Merlin gulped. "I should have been able to-."

Bayard turned the younger man towards him, making him looking him in the eyes. "Merlin. None of this is your fault. We will win the war. You will grow greater in power. And you will free Hunith from her enchantment." He gave the sorcerer a little shake. "You will. Because you are Merlin Dragonlord, greatest of all sorcerers...and sons." He gave the sorcerer a tender smile. "And I am lucky to call you friend."

Merlin's throat constricted and his eyes watered as he was forced to look away from his king to keep from losing his composure. "Thank you, my king."

"Now go, and get some rest... or grab that druid boy and let him experience what his rotten brother couldn't appreciate." Bayard winked lecherously.

Laughing, Merlin shook his head, in a much better mood now as he left, making sure the spells around this room and his king were still in place and untouched.

The sorcerer was still in a very good mood as he ventured towards his room, and yet once he arrived at his door he could feel the warnings, had known that someone had been inside of his room despite his orders that even cleaning maids shouldn't be allowed entrance. His eyes narrowed and power grew in his palm like a ball of lightning as he pushed the door open, sauntering into the room, expecting an attack of some sorts.

Yet none came.

Arthur stood from where he'd been gazing at the fire roaring in the fireplace, brushing his hands together, clearing his throat. "I see you still don't trust people in your room. Your magic's still cleaning the place while you're not around, and keeping the fire going even when there isn't any wood."

Gaze searching the room, Merlin frowned, realizing that there was no on else there.

What sort of attack was this?

With his free hand he pushed his door closed and willed the magic gathered in his palm to fade, the orb of lightning disappearing.

"To what do I owe this visit, Prince Arthur?" He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door, eyes narrowed, wondering what exactly Arthur's game was.

The blonde flinched, shadows from the fire dancing over his face. "Merlin..."

The sorcerer waited, but the young prince merely stared at him with that ridiculously sad expression.

Did he really think Merlin was going to fall for that? Did he _really_ think he could fool Merlin once more? Perhaps he did. Perhaps this was Camelot’s next play. Yes. That would make sense. They knew that Arthur was his weakness, or at least that he had once been, and so they were trying to use him against Merlin right now. What fools. Did they not realize just how much self control it was taking for Merlin not to murder their Crown Prince now that they were alone with no witnesses to link him to the youth’s death?

Annoyed, the older man pushed away from the door, frustrated that he couldn’t do anything, not yet, at least. "If you're just going to stand there I'd prefer it if you left. I don't have the time or the patience to put up with you or your games."

Arthur flinched once more, looking away, impressing Merlin with the way he managed to look so genuinely hurt. Maybe Merlin truly hadn’t been blind to what was happening right in front of him in Mercia, maybe he’d just been taken in by a master manipulator. That made him feel a little better.

"Merlin,” Arthur whispered, “I-I know that we weren't-I know that-."

Merlin sighed, leaning back against the door once more. Just what was the game plan now? What was Camelot betting on? Were they so worried Bayard might not take the bait that they were throwing their Crown Prince at Merlin? Really? How utterly pathetic, and yet somewhat amusing.

"You think that I planned for Nimueh to come and try kill you,” Arthur finally announced, eyes flashing with too many emotions to really decipher any. "But while I knew that she'd find me soon, I didn't want her to kill you. You're such an idiot! After everything-how could you-you fool?"

Merlin was used to Arthur calling him names, and he'd once thought it was Arthur's way of showing in his own way that he cared, but now he wondered if it wasn't just that Arthur really had thought him all those things and had just been brave enough to tell it to him to his face.

It'd probably been the only time Arthur had been truthful to him. 

"Is that all?" Merlin wanted to know, eyeing the prince in a bored fashion. This attempt was clearly designed to arouse some sort of emotion, reaction, from him, and he wouldn’t give them the pleasure.

Desperation flashed over Arthur's face as he took a step towards the taller man. "Why are you doing this? You didn't want the war, Merlin. You-you would stay up at night because you couldn't sleep knowing people were dying needlessly. You-."

"Oh, cut the charade, Little Prince." Merlin rolled his eyes, annoyed, barely managing to keep himself from flinging something at the boy and somehow starting up the war once more while they were still on Camelot's soil. "Your acting abilities have either decreased during your return home or maybe I'm just not as gullible as I used to be." He pushed away from the door and took a couple of menacing steps towards the boy who refused to back away, bringing them dangerously close to each other. "Either way, don't waste your breath." He reached out and brushed golden silk out of the prince's face. "I do not believe anything that comes out of your pretty little mouth."

Arthur glared up at him, face hurt and defiant, tilting his head upwards slightly so he could stare angrily into his eyes. "How did you survive the spell Nimueh hit you with?" He gulped, looking as if he wanted to duck his gaze and yet refused to do so, refused to tear his gaze from Merlin's. "Why did you let me believe you were dead?"

"Did you really think you'd seen the true extent of my power? That I told you everything, Little Prince?" Merlin taunted, leaning down lower, eyes dark and stormy. He refused to admit that, had Arthur remained a little longer within Mercia Merlin might have divulged his deepest, darkest of secrets to him. Maybe, had Arthur stayed longer, his High Priestess would’ve had enough information to truly wound Merlin when she caught him by surprise. The realization was too hard to bear, to terrifying to contemplate. How had he been so woefully _weak_ for this boy? "You thought I'd trust a sex slave who'd tried killing me multiple times in the past?"

"You trusted me,” Arthur argued, eyes flashing angrily as he surged forwards and grabbed Merlin's cloak with both hands, betraying his strength by how effortlessly he yanked the sorcerer closer in his anger. "You told me things no master would tell his slave!" His grip tightened, his knuckles nearly transparent, his voice hoarse. "I wasn't just your slave and you know it! I was your lover!"

Merlin hated himself for the flinch he gave at that, hated himself for betraying, if only a little, that this did affect him.

That the conniving little prince still could affect him.

"Is that what this is all about?" The sorcerer sneered nastily. "You returned home and realized that you couldn't find someone who could fuck deep inside you in the way that made you whimper and grip so tightly? Couldn't find in Camelot someone who could grab and push you face first against a wall before taking you, burying deep inside of your body to the hilt, till the hairs of his cock tickled your ass?"

Arthur's eyebrows drew closer, an expression of near torture making itself at home on his face.

"Have you been unable to find someone who can look passed you being a prince to be brave enough to shove you down and tear your trousers from your begging ass? To slap that slutty, begging little hole?" His voice grew hoarser as his own words began to undo him, of that clutching heat assaulting him at the worse of times. "Thought once you discovered I was still alive you'd come here and annoy me enough so that I'd snap and rape you?" He snickered, hating the prince for taunting him with what he'd once had and what he'd thought he'd finally stopped wanting. "What would the queen say if she knew her son was such a little whore?"

Arthur snarled, which was the only warning he gave before his clenched fist connected with Merlin's face, drawing blood.

The sorcerer was a little surprised, having been caught unprepared, _again_. First Arthur being the prince, then his calling Nimueh, as well as his somehow being able to bypass Merlin’s wards on his room, and now _this_ ** _-_** Arthur kept proving he was far more cunning and dangerous than Merlin gave him credit. He needed to stop making that mistake.

Merlin raised a hand to his face and came away with his digits covered in his own warm blood. He wasn't really angry though, truthfully, he was grateful. If Arthur hadn't done something like that Merlin might just have raped the little prince in his very own castle.

It was doubtful that that would have helped with the 'peace talks'.

Chuckling, amused at how something that should have sent him over the edge with fury instead lulled him, comforted him somewhat, Merlin shook his head. "I think it's time for your curfew, Little Prince. Good boys should be tucked in bed right now, and I advise you head straightaways to yours."

"Are you dismissing me, _Mer_ -lin?" Arthur whispered hoarsely, head lowered, clenched fist shaking.

"Oh, of course not Your Highness." He chuckled, wiping at the blood trickling from his nose. "I am not your Master. I am not in the position to dismiss you."

Arthur's gaze rose sharply and he sent Merlin a furious glare at that. "You're being such an idiot."

"You know, I do not have much experience in peace talks, but I do believe that the kingdom seeking peace shouldn't physically attack members of the other's court." He raised his blood-covered fingers, wiggling them a little tauntingly. "If I were to go to my king this would be enough to have him call off any peace treaty and crush this pathetic little kingdom with the ease we all know that he can." 

"You won't do that,” Arthur whispered, soft yet strong.

His assurance shocked Merlin a little out of his taunt, filling him with reluctant curiosity. "And why are you so sure of this?"

"Because, I know you. The real you. Not this damned Emrys the King's Sword you think you are,” Arthur replied emotionlessly, eyes narrowed as they rose to meet his. "The fact that you don't even seem to realize who the real you is only shows just how much of an idiot you really are." He raised his chin defiantly. "It only prove that I'm right. I know you. You're a soft-hearted, powerful idiot."

Once again Merlin should be pissed, but he just found himself slightly disturbed. Arthur was changing tactics again, and it was honestly tiresome. He didn’t have the desire or strength to play whatever game Arthur was trying to play, and he was far too hungry to be trusted to deal with it with his head on straight. ”I am tired. Get out."

A muscle jerked in Arthur's cheek, but he shocked the sorcerer by doing the one thing he'd never done while Merlin's slave: h e obeyed.

The young prince stormed passed Merlin, reaching the door, before hesitating, seeming about to turn back to face him.

Merlin needed him gone. "About Mordred."

He could sense Arthur's tension rise despite the fact that both of their backs were facing each other.

"What about him?" Arthur finally asked.

"How old is he?" Merlin asked.

"A year younger than me," Arthur replied curtly.

“Seventeen," Merlin pondered out loud, waiting for Arthur to take the bait.

The prince didn't disappoint, snarling. "Stay away from him, you stupid sorcerer."

And with that he stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him.

Now alone, Merlin let out a little sigh as his magic locked the door behind Arthur. The sorcerer was a little annoyed with his magic, which had let Arthur into the room when it shouldn't have. Sometimes it was as if his magic had a life and mind of its own, and it was times like these that made it frustrating.

Going towards the bed, Merlin merely pulled off his coat and boots before collapsing onto the bed, tired as hell after that confrontation with Arthur.

He shook his head as he raised his hand to the nose his magic was already fussing over, healing.

It disturbed him how despite hating the prince, this encounter only amused him.

Amused him deeply.

 

* * *

 

Despite the fearful whispers and looks that surrounded Merlin wherever he went, that did not stop the survivors of Drayton from making pilgrimages to his room, in fact, it only seemed to increase said nightly visits. He wasn’t the only Mercian to be visited by knights from Camelot though, Geraint was spending most of his nights with Sir Ethan, with a couple of the other ‘pilgrims’ finding themselves entertaining certain Mercians who seemed to have courted their favor. 

Merlin knew that Uther and Arthur were aware - or at least suspected - about the errant knights' nightly activity, because those same knights were suddenly given harsher training and tasks, tedious patrols, as if to punish them or make them too tired to make their nightly visits. The hypocrisy, Arthur’s especially, was outstanding, and as Merlin welcomed the visitors to his room he whispered soothing words in their ears, and while he never outwardly condemned the rulers he questioned the right a ruler had to what his knights did in their free time - had the knights not already given so much already for Camelot? Even their lives were the king’s what more could they give, what more could the king _want?_

Those words, coupled with his expert touches, were comforting, relaxing, and incredibly manipulative.

Arthur had taught him to play dirty, and during their time apart Merlin had not only learnt to do so as well, but had mastered it.

 

* * *

 

"Has something happened between you and Prince Arthur?"

Merlin looked up from the book he'd been reading in the Royal Library and gazed upon the young druid watching him with deep disapproval in his light colored eyes. "I thought you had an intriguing depth of knowledge into all that's happened between myself and your brother."

Mordred flinched, looking a mixture of disturbed and disgusted all of a sudden. "He is no brother of mine." 

Merlin had sensed discord between the brothers before, between Morgana and Arthur as well, and he snapped his book shut, wondering just how Mercia could use the siblings. "Your mother, is she in the Court?"

Mordred shook his head. "Our elder sister, Anna Morgause, was married off to King Cenred of Escetia. The Queen had one of the conditions of this highly favorable alliance-making match be that my mother be forced to live in Escetia with my sister and not return." The druid's eyes blazed with so many emotions before he finally shook his head and gazed away. "My sister and I have seen her only once since she left five years ago, but only because we travelled to Escetia ourselves. And now, with my druidic training and the war, and Morgana's position as a possible alliance in the making, we have been unable to travel and see our mother for so long."

Merlin could feel a stab of sympathy.

He knew what it was like to be a child kept from his mother. That wasn’t what he said, though. The idea was to find a weakness to exploit, not to offer one up of his own.

"And now your father is bartering off your other sister as well,” the sorcerer declared thoughtfully, wondering how the druid would react to his words.

Mordred nodded, looking quite amused at how bluntly that was being declared. "I knew it would be obvious to Mercia the moment he put her as King Bayard's guide."

Merlin smiled, glad that not everyone in Camelot thought Mercians idiots. "If my king were to fall for this seduction, would you be sent to Mercia as your mother was sent to Escetia? It would be a very clever way of removing you as a threat to the Crown Prince."

“I am no threat.” Mordred sneered in dark amusement. "My mother already signed away my right to any inheritance I could claim."

“I supposed, how things are now, that is true,” Merlin murmured, knowing that if the young druid worked for Mercia, that King Bayard would happily make the boy a lord over some province as a reward, especially if he were to marry the boy's sister.

Mordred's sharp gaze rose to Merlin's, not needing the sorcerer to say anything further to understand the undertones of the conversation. He paused, observing the older man, before gazing away. "Camelot has great faith in its ability to woo its enemies by flaunting its women before them. Before the king gave my eldest sister to Cenred, he detested Camelot, only agreeing to peace so he could have Anna Morgause."

Pocketing that information, Merlin put the book back in the shelf and smirked.

Rumors of Cenred being unwilling to displease his wife were rampant throughout Albion, and Merlin doubted Queen Morgause was all too pleased by how she'd been sold off...or how her mother had been treated either. If Mercia were to gain Lady Morgana, Queen Anna Morgause's sister, as it's own Queen, and the ladies' brother as an ally...

...Merlin could see one of Camelot's strongest allies become one of its nastiest enemies.

This would be a battle of family.

Merlin had always understood King Bayard's need for Camelot, and with his oath taken to serve the king no matter what, he'd known he'd do whatever it took to help his king have what was needed. But at the time Merlin had wanted to do things in an impossible way. He'd wanted a war without bloodshed, without injury, without casualties.

When he'd almost died he'd realized that in war there was always going to be casualties.  Also, the best way to make sure less people died was to win the war quickly.  It meant one had to be cruel to be kind.

What a paradox.

"Tomorrow the true peace talk commences,” Merlin commented, wondering just how sharp the druid was at picking up on his undertone.

"I'm sure," Mordred's eyes flashed bluer, "that Mercia will find us to be most useful allies."

To anyone that would sound like a very patriotic thing to say, a nd yet Merlin read the double meaning to the comment, and allowed himself a smile, reaching out and placing his hand on the younger male's shoulder. "I'm sure we will."

The side of Mordred's lip curled.

 

* * *

 

"Lady Morgana has assured me that while Camelot will keep up the truce for maybe up to a year should we wed, that King Uther is on what he believes is a gods-blessed mission to unite all of Albion under his rule, and he will give us good cause to break the peace,” King Bayard announced, fingers steepled as Owain stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. "He has already instructed Anna Morgause to search out the weaknesses in Cenred and Escetia, and has told Morgana to do the same should she become Queen of Mercia. He intends to use them as spies so that he can easily take over their husbands' kingdoms." 

Merlin exchanged knowing smiles with Owain before lowering his gaze to meet Bayard’s. "Yet why be Queen for a while only to give the power back to the man who has never publicly acknowledged you as his own blood?"

"Exactly." King Bayard smiled back, both sitting before the king's fire that night, readying themselves for what would be done when the peace talks truly started the next morrow. "She is devilish and cunning, willing to betray her own blood for the power Queenship would give her, and for the pleasure of seeing the family whom slighted her downtrodden and unthroned. She is ruthless, heartless, would stab you with a pleasant smile on her lips. 

"I see. You've decided to marry her," Merlin realized immediately, leaning forwards in his seat. "Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, My King."

"Thank you, although Owain was the first.” 

Once again Merlin and Owain exchanged knowing smiles before Merlin’s gaze fixed on the king. “But Owain doesn’t count, he’s basically an extension of you.”

Bayard smirked, clearly enjoying the analogy as he tenderly patted one of the hands Owain was using to massage his shoulders. 

Clearing his throat, not exactly sure how to ask this, Merlin glanced between the king and his manservant. “Have you broached _the_ topic with her? Camelot… you saw the scandal the fire sprites invoked, and that was mere _dancing_.” He raised an eyebrow. “A girl raised in this environment, no matter how progressive she might be in comparison to her peers, might still not be able to understand, or accept, certain Mercian customs.”

“The Lady Morgana will be bringing her lady in waiting, the very pretty dark skinned girl who waits on her so faithfully, to Mercia with her once we wed. Like Owain, Gwen will be given one of the rooms opposite the royal bedchamber.” A shit-eating grin covered Bayard’s lips as he tugged Owain’s hand from his shoulder to bring his inner wrist to Bayard’s mouth, the king nibbling teasingly on the skin there. “How else is Gwen expected to attend to _all_ of her mistress’ needs?”

Ah. 

Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise before chuckling. It would appear that while Camelot might not be a good fit for Mercia, the Lady Morgana might very well be a perfect fit for King Bayard and his lifestyle.

“Enough about me.” King Bayard tugged Owain around, yanked him onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around the much younger man, who leaned back against his chest. "What has happened between you and the princeling?"

The question soured Merlin’s amusement as he leaned back hard in his seat. "That's the second time I've been asked that question. Mordred wanted to know the same thing." He shook his head. "Why do you believe that something has happened between me and that spoiled brat?"

The King eyed him before answering. "You seem less angry, and it is not because you've sated yourself with the druid boy. You do not glare at the princeling hatefully anymore either, merely seem to purposely ignore him. He, in return, does not look at you the way he did when he first discovered who you were. Now he is just very angry. And I should say, annoyed."

"Annoyed." Merlin raised an eyebrow as he glanced to Owain for confirmation.

“Yes, he seems to live very annoyed,” Owain agreed without a second’s hesitation. As a manservant, Owain was often overlooked, which allowed the shrewd servant to notice things others did not. “Before he looked worried and confused, and maybe a bit nauseated, but now the reigning emotion is most definitely annoyance and anger, which is aimed both at you and at your constant companion: his brother. Surely you’ve noticed his manservant, Cedric, following you everywhere and reporting back to him.”

Is _that_ who that skinny fellow was? 

Bayard frowned. "It reminds me of how Owain says the princeling used to behave in Mercia whenever you were around Lancelot.”

Again, Merlin sought confirmation from Owain himself, valuing the unique insight Owain had regarding the going-ons of the castle.

“After the day that Arthur tried to escape, every time I would bring him food to the room, passing it through your barrier, he’d demand to know whether you’d been seen near Lancelot’s room that day. Said you’d promised not to go there anymore but he wanted to make sure you were actually keeping your word.” Owain shivered when Bayard began to rub his thighs. “He basically acted like a spoiled, entitled brat. It’s a wonder we didn’t figure out who he was back then given his deplorable attitude.”

Merlin felt annoyance at himself for the quick surprise and pleasure he felt at that revelation. He shook his head, refusing to allow himself to dwell on that troubling reaction, on the purr from deep within. "As Crown Prince I doubt Arthur has ever had to share anything he believed his."

“Exactly," King Bayard declared. "His."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at that. "He's being childish."

"He's being possessive, Merlin,” King Bayard countered immediately. "Were it not for the fact that I desperately need Camelot under Mercia's reign, and were it not for the fact that my soon to be queen would stab me should I not keep my word, I might truly consider this peace treaty."

"Why?" Merlin asked, frowning. Those words made no sense and made him wary. Peace with Camelot - true peace - was an impossibility. They both knew that. So what games was Bayard playing at?

"For you,” King Bayard sighed.

Merlin didn’t want Arthur. He _didn’t_.  

"I know why you need to win this war, My King." Merlin frowned darkly, ashamed that his king worried this way for him. "I will help you win this war, and I will make Camelot yours. Arthur's position means nothing. I have sworn to help you conquer Camelot, and I even if I wished to defy that oath, which I do not, you know that I am unable to. My magic has bound me to my oath and to your reign. You will have Camelot."

King Bayard watched him, and nodded wordlessly.

Merlin wondered what his king was planning.

 

* * *

 

 "There is going to be peace between Camelot and Mercia."

Merlin tore his gaze from the smug expression Uther's face and the sly one on Bayard's, turning his head slightly to gaze upon Arthur, who now stood next to him. "Apparently your father's methods of securing alliances has won out once more." His gaze returned to his king, who was standing over the peace treaty along with his soon to be father in law, whom was younger than himself. "Camelot is in luck that Uther had another daughter."

Arthur frowned next to him. "You're being difficult again. Peace has been achieved. It's what you've wanted ever since the war begun."

"We've signed peace treaties with Camelot before,” Merlin reminded him with little emotion. "Camelot has failed to keep its side of the bargain every single time."

Arthur flinched. "This time it is different. My father will honor his word."

It wasn't the words that surprised Merlin, but the fact that Arthur sounded as if he truly believed having his half sister on the throne would force his father to keep the peace and stop his dream of uniting Albion under his rule. Either Arthur was an even better actor than Merlin had previously given him credit for, or the young prince didn't know his father's order to his daughters.

"Do not think that I failed to notice the stipulation that Mordred come to the Mercian Court so that his sister wouldn't 'feel so lonely'." Arthur folded his arms over his chest, and yet like Merlin, was gazing at the kings. "Don't treat me as a fool, Merlin. I know the real reason for that request."

Merlin raised an eyebrow, not about to admit that he’d most definitely been spearheading that initiative. They mightn't be able to trust Mordred or his sister, not yet at least, maybe not ever, not truly - but Mercia _could_ use them. "And here I thought you'd be grateful for the chance to insert another spy into our court."

"We're back to that, I see,” Arthur announced, head raised high. 

Merlin refused to answer, watching as King Uther signed the agreement.

"The story I told you once, the one about how I came to be in the battle..." Arthur cleared his throat. "It was the truth."

Frowning, the sorcerer couldn't keep from turning his head slightly to stare at the prince.

"My father refused to let me leave and join the war. I was too young. I was his only acceptable heir. He wouldn't risk it. Wouldn't risk me,” Arthur explained, eyes on his father as he spoke. "For years his mistress had taunted my mother on her lack of children, as the druidess had already given my father two strong daughters. When my mother finally conceived all those years of taunts didn't matter because not only had my mother given birth, but she'd given birth to a son, the heir. I was the beloved heir, the one who needed to be protected. I hated it. I couldn't have my men dying while I sat in my room doing nothing."

"So you dressed as a knight and went into battle without your father's knowledge, leaving a letter,” Merlin remembered the rest of the tale. He’d thought it a brilliant cover story after the fact, but for the first time since the discovery of Arthur’s true identity did the sorcerer wonder if maybe it’d been brilliant because it’d been true. But there was also the fact that there were far too many coincidences in Arthur’s situation, in how he’d gone from being the Crown Prince of Camelot, to somehow being embedded exactly in the right place to get the information he’d need to help his kingdom win. And there was the equally convenient timing of Nimueh’s appearance to consider.

“My mother and father spread the rumor that I was sick and on bed rest to try and keep me safe, they didn’t want anyone suspecting that the heir to the throne was somewhere on the battlefield,” Arthur continued on breathlessly, clearly nervous. “They put Nimueh to search for me right away, but it took her a very long time to find me, most probably because of the wards you always keep up around your room.”

“And yet she found you,” Merlin reminded him in a dark drawl.

“That’s because I have a bit of her magic in me, I have since my birth!” Arthur clenched his fists, his expression twisted in desperation. “My mother couldn’t conceive so Nimueh aided her using magic, and thanks to that there’s some traces of her magic inside of my body. It was only thanks to that link that she was actually able to finally pierce through your wards and find me, and even then it took her forever to be able to do so, and doing so drained her so badly she suddenly collapsed the day after she rescued me and was bedridden for a whole week.”

It was Arthur’s willingness to reveal his High Priestess’ weakness that caused Merlin to pause in contemplation.

If the queen had had so much trouble conceiving, it wasn't a stretch to believe Nimueh had aided the queen by magic, and that would leave a little bond between her and Arthur that would have helped her finally track him despite the strong magical barriers Merlin had always had around him. And once the High Priestess had found the prince, in the way she had, she would have reacted in anger and struck down the man who'd supposedly violated the captured boy.

Merlin fought the shiver. What if Arthur was actually telling the truth about his capture and his rescue? It was, of course, far more believable that this had all been staged - this confession as well - and yet with this new information Merlin began to really think, to wonder, to doubt.

What if Arthur hadn’t been using him that whole time? What if he _hadn’t_ been behind Nimueh’s attempted murder?

The sorcerer ran a shaky hand over his head, unable to full comprehend this and what exactly that would mean.

"You let me think you were dead for almost a year, you useless sorcerer,” Arthur whispered harshly. "And if I hadn't insisted you show your face you would have been here, besides me, and would have allowed me continue thinking you were dead."

"Yes, I would have,” Merlin agreed softly, unable to look at Arthur until he'd managed to settle back into his normal composure.

"Spineless coward,” Arthur hissed.

Merlin snorted, darkly amused by the fact that Arthur seemed to have been pissed off because he hadn't been able to insult Merlin as much as he used to and was using these days they had together to catch up on the insults he'd missed flinging towards him. "I assure you, cowardice was not the reason I chose to keep myself away."

Arthur snorted.

Merlin turned away his gaze, forcing himself to refrain from doing something childish like roll his eyes.

King Bayard signed the document.

A large cheer went forth amongst the people.

Mordred, standing next to his sister, turned slightly, gaze finding Merlin's.  _It is done._

Merlin nodded to that.

"Where is Lance-alot?" Arthur slurred the name with as much distaste as he always used to. "If I remember right, he always seemed to stick to you wherever you went."

"He was injured in the last battle, and remained in Mercia despite his assurance that he could still do his job,” Merlin replied. "Cassius is tending to him."

"Ah, yes, the Court Physician,” Arthur mumbled.

"Also, his husband."

Arthur's body jerked visibly at that, as he turned to look at Merlin, eyes wide. "Lancelot and Cassius? Since when?"

"They became of an agreement a month or so after you 'forbade' me from being intimate with him." Merlin shrugged, finding it so odd and surreal to be speaking about this to Arthur of all people, and with such frankness. He still wasn’t sure he believed the prince’s story, but it was that tiny sliver of doubt that was to blame for his sudden candor.

"Ever since _then_? Why did you never tell me?" Arthur snapped, annoyed as hell.

He'd liked Arthur's possessiveness, but that wasn’t something he was willing to share. "I didn't see how it was any of your concern."

"Not my-?" Arthur sounded like he was ready to draw his sword against the sorcerer.

From where he stood next to his sister, Mordred raised his chin slightly.  _May I come to your chambers tonight? I need to speak to you in private._

Merlin nodded once more.

Mordred's lips curled slightly and he turned his attention to Lady Morgana when she spoke to him.

"Emrys." Bayard turned towards his Court Sorcerer the same time Uther turned towards his.

"Why does he keep calling you by that name?" Arthur muttered darkly, folding his arms over his chest, apparently still in a sulk about the whole Lancelot and Cassius thing. "We all know who you really are."

Merlin's gaze slid to the young prince. "Do you really?"

Arthur's expression fell slightly, eyes narrowed, eyebrows nearly touching in a questioning frown.

The sorcerer moved towards his king the same time Nimueh did towards hers, and they met at the peace treaty, blue eyes eyeing the other.

Nimueh outstretched her hand and laid her fingers on the scroll.

Merlin did the same, facing the High Priestess.

"No human would have survived someone powerful enough to cast the spell I cast on you." Nimueh spoke loud enough so that only he could hear, her fingers beginning to glow as her power gathered at its tips.

Merlin smirked, nodding his agreement, his eyes bleeding gold as he gathered his power as well.

"I know what you are,” the High Priestess declared, face deadly serious.

Merlin eyed her with his golden gaze, sensing the doubled protection spells she'd placed on herself, and the way she watched him with a gaze that tried to look defiant, yet the nervousness betrayed itself in the tension in her body and the way the tiny muscle next to her left eye twitched.

His lips curled in a provocatively devilish smile. "Then you know your doubled protective wards are useless."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she gulped, but raised her chin slightly. "Your kind has its weakness."

"Do we?" Merlin grinned, showing teeth.

The High Priestess visibly flinched, and then visibly hated herself for it.

Merlin's whole eyes flashed gold as the magic journeyed through his hand into the scroll, finalizing Mercia's side of the agreement. He then smiled viciously on purpose, and turned his back on the High Priestess, showing her how little he feared her as an enemy, making his way to his king while the High Priestess poured her magic into the contract as well.

"We have reached an agreement!" King Uther declared to all victoriously. "Let the celebrations begin!"


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone was completely drunk.

Merlin sighed, watching yet another Camelot nobleman collapse in a drunken heap under the table. The sorcerer nudged the closest unconscious blob of snores and drool with the tip of his shoe, but other than snore a little louder the man did nothing. It kind of reminded Merlin somewhat of the nights when Mercia forewent their more scandalous celebrations in lieu of the nights of endless drinks, except this was, of course, much _much_ tamer.

Apparently drunken men made complete asses of themselves no matter where they lived.

That realization was somewhat comforting.

Like back at home there were very few who refrained from drinking more than they should, Nimueh being one of the abstainers wasn't a surprise to Merlin. If she truly knew what he was she would be wise enough to remain completely sober and vigilant, as she was doing now. If the High Priestess had truthfully discovered the truth about his mother, Merlin wondered exactly how she'd done so. It didn't scare him, or worry him, that it could and would be made known one day. He'd already proven everything he'd needed to prove, and it would probably give Mercia an edge in the upcoming war. Merlin was just very curious how exactly Nimueh had discovered the truth, given the few number of those who knew.

Considering this happened during the years of peace between Camelot and Mercia, and the fact that Balinor had been born in Camelot and lived there until Uther had had him banished... there could be people in this kingdom who were close enough to Balinor Dragonlord to have been confided in. 

The sorcerer watched as Lady Morgana, his future Queen, was escorted from the room by her personal maid, Mordred following behind silent as ever, always seeming quite protective and vigilant of his beautiful, older sister. Despite being his children, Uther didn't seem quite as preoccupied or concerned of them as he was of Arthur. The King clearly favored the son of the wife he'd been rumored to have loved since childhood, and it had only been demonstrated when he sent his mistress packing to Escetia with his eldest daughter. Merlin wondered how one could truly love someone and yet have lovers on the side. He himself had stopped seeing his many lovers when his relationship with Arthur had progressed to the point where the blonde demanded monogamy. It hadn't hindered or deprived Merlin any because after a while Arthur had started initiating their intimate moments and the boy's sex drive had been animalistic and never-ending.

Merlin flinched, reminding himself once more to put thoughts of Arthur away. Whatever they'd had together was finished and needed to stay that way, even _if_ Arthur may have been telling the truth about his time in Mercia. In the end, it didn’t matter. Not really. There was a war between Mercia and Camelot, and while a false peace had been installed between them it was nothing but that, false, and it would end.

Arthur was always going to be on the opposite side of the war as Merlin, and even if the Prince had ever had any true feelings for him, their positions as Prince and Court Sorcerer of two battling kingdoms would forever divide them.

If Mercia were to win the war, Merlin doubted that Arthur would be content to revert to their pervious circumstances, and should Camelot win Merlin would be dead. There was no other way that Camelot could emerge victorious from this war if Merlin still breathed.

Also, just as importantly, Bayard had been right when he'd declared that Merlin needed to find a lover, a steady one. The king was strongly suggesting it right now, but should Merlin not take things into his hands soon he knew his king would make his suggestion more of an order, and the sorcerer needed to have things handled before it came to that. Merlin doubted he could feel for anyone else what he'd once felt for Arthur, but that didn't really matter. He was what he was, and his nature truly dictated his actions, not his emotions. For a moment in time he'd let his emotions dictate what to do, and while it was a bittersweet memory he could never forget, it was also a state of mind he couldn't relive. He now had to choose a lover, a stable, more permanent person.

It was his king's wish… as well as Merlin's need.

The problem was that he'd lived in Mercia from his early childhood, he'd lived in the Royal Court raised as Bayard's ward almost just as long, and it'd taken Arthur's capture and being gifted to him for Merlin to finally feel those emotions he'd heard the scullery and chambermaids giggling amongst themselves about. Sensations and confusions and emotions he'd never felt before, had wondered if he could truly feel, had only been awakened by the cheeky and prattish catamite who'd thought he was the master of their odd and complex relationship.

That was probably another reason why the betrayal had hurt Merlin so much.

He'd finally found someone who proved that Merlin could very well be human… and the sorcerer wasn't sure he could find those feelings and contentment with someone else.

Ever since the Prince's return to his rightful place and kingdom Merlin had had many lovers,countless lovers, many of them he couldn't remember the faces or names of. None of them brought upon him the need to wrap an arm around them, or to watch them sleep, or to run his hand through their hair. Woman and man alike had been thrown out of the sorcerer's room once having consummated with him, all leaving him feeling unsatisfied on a deeper level than he'd ever felt before. 

It was another reason why he'd hated Arthur. 

Why Arthur?

Why someone he could never truly be with?

He was sure his mother must be behind this somehow, punishing him for choosing Hunith over her. She was punishing him more than she already had.

Someone sat down next to him, but he didn't pay the person any mind, keeping an alert eye on his king.

"Your devotion to your king and his safety is very commendable,” a soft, feminine voice commented. "Despite this being a time of festivities, you have foregone any merry-making of your own out of your desire to protect him."

Merlin turned his gaze upon the one sitting next to him, and his eyes widened a fraction in surprise to realize that it was Queen Igraine. He eyed the beautiful older woman, choosing his words carefully, not exactly sure why Arthur's mother had singled him out. "He is my king."

She smiled, blonde curls bouncing as she tilted her head slightly. "I hope you do not find me forward, Court Sorcerer, but once word reached my ears as to who you really were, I felt the need to speak to you."

He steeled himself, wary, as his gaze focused on her face. 

"My son has been indulged and pampered since birth, as is his right as sole heir to the throne of Camelot." Queen Igraine pulled an incredibly pale blonde lock out of her face and behind her bejeweled ear. "When I discovered that he had left to war with the knights my heart was torn with fear, and then when news of his regiment being taken captive reach our ears I nearly died from grief and worry."

Merlin listened in silence, wondering where the Queen was taking this. 

"Nimueh couldn't find him, couldn't locate him despite the bond between them." The Queen looked away, flinching as she unknowingly confirmed Nimueh’s using magic to help the Queen conceive Arthur. In a way, Arthur himself was a magical being, with Nimueh as the father more than Uther, since she was the one who helped create Arthur. "And then finally she could, even if only very faintly, and it was enough for her to bring my child home. Yet when he returned he needed to be sedated because he seemed to have gone insane with what we thought were the atrocities he'd had to live through in the Mercian Court." She closed her eyes, seeming quite grief-stricken. “Gaius, our Court Physician, conducted a full examination on him and we discovered he had been used by another man, but it had not been _violent_."

Terribly uncomfortable by Arthur's mother bringing up the topic of his having repeatedly sodomized her beloved son, Merlin cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"When he awoke Arthur told us everything, not sparing a detail. He is blunt, it is how we raised him to be." Queen Igraine surprised the hell out of the Sorcerer by reaching out and placing her hand on his. "What I mean to say is that I want to thank you for having taken care of my son."

Merlin blinked, utterly confused, suspecting that Arthur really hadn't told his mother the truth at all. 

"Any other master would have treated his slave poorly, especially one as outspoken and spoiled as Arthur." Queen Igraine smiled sheepishly, obviously accepting some of the blame for having spoiled said boy. "Arthur admits to having tried to kill you multiple times during the beginning, and if it had been any other master he wouldn't have lived passed the first attempt. I know this. Arthur knows this. _Uther_ knows this." She squeezed Merlin's hand. "No matter whatever happens between Camelot and Mercia, I want you to know that I will forever be indebted to you for how you treated my son given everything, and should you need anything from me that is in my power to help you with, please, just ask."

The young sorcerer just stared at the Queen, unable to understand, much less to say anything. He didn't like Uther, couldn't find it in him to truly trust anyone in Camelot, and yet its Queen had managed to fill him with warmth he hadn't felt since Hunith had been taken so violently from him. With only a few words Queen Igraine had touched the sorcerer, and he was forced to look away and gulp, to gather his wits and emotions.

She must have sensed his conflicting emotions because she squeezed his hand and stood, excusing herself from the festivities.

Merlin watched her go, eyes prickling, the warmth of her hand on his still there. 

"What did my mother want?"

Turning his head to the other side, Merlin cleared his throat as Arthur arrived and sat down next to him. The blonde wasn't overly drunk like the others in the celebrations, but it was more than a little obvious that he'd had his share of mead and wine. 

Merlin's gaze went to his king, who seemed to be entertained with whatever story King Uther was acting out drunkenly. "She came to thank me for not returning the favor and killing you after your first attempt on my life."

"Oh." There was silence, and then the prat spoke once more, sounding quite petulant. "No one is going to stab your precious little king if you look away from him for a second. We are amongst allies now _Mer_ -lin."

Realizing that it did seem suspicious that despite the treaty signed he obviously still didn't trust Camelot, Merlin forced his protective nature to calm somewhat, and turned his gaze upon the prince once more. "Force of habit."

Arthur nodded, seeming to accept this answer easily. 

Then again, he had lived with Merlin for so long in Mercia, knew of the many nights Merlin had gone sleepless trying to find ways to protect his king, to weed out any traitors. Arthur better than anyone knew how extremely important the king was to him, although Merlin never divulged the reason for his devotion. He'd doubted Arthur would be able to be as confident and comfortable with him as he'd been if he truly knew the source of Merlin's powers, that he was much more than just a truly gifted sorcerer. But he supposed that as soon as the Mercian entourage left, with the soon to be Queen with them, the High Priestess would let her monarchs know what she'd learnt about him.

Merlin wondered how Arthur would see him after discovering what he was.

"We're allies now, Merlin,” Arthur mumbled, voice only slightly slurred, eyes fixed on him.

The sorcerer tilted his head slightly as he eyed the younger man. "I realize this."

"Do you really?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed. 

It was around that moment that Merlin realized he mightn't be understanding the undercurrent of this conversation, especially since Arthur looked so annoyed with him, as if he was tempted to punch the sorcerer. 

"Do you really understand what this means, Court Sorcerer?" Arthur challenged.

Merlin studied the prince, wondering if he truly was as drunk as he'd seemed moments ago, since he'd stopped slurring and seemed quite composed. But Arthur had always been very straightforwards and never afraid of speaking what was on his mind, even when he was a slave and not truly entitled to have his own opinion; so Merlin really doubted that Arthur would resort to pretenses if it came to speaking to Merlin. 

"As allies now, and with Morgana married to your king, I will not be a stranger to Mercia,” Arthur declared very slowly. "It is expected for me to visit our allies for the purpose of building a rapport with the royal family, and attend certain important events."

"Such as the wedding no doubt,” Merlin agreed with a nod. "Despite her being the bastard daughter of your father's mistress, she is still the reason for our peace treaty, and it would be disrespectful for Camelot not to attend the event in Mercia."

 Arthur's gaze slid away, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "Exactly. That was exactly what I was referring to."

Merlin kept his face passive, not as obtuse as he sometimes played, suspecting what the prince had been referring to. There were few things a man couldn't fake, and arousal was one of them. 

Despite everything, Merlin had always known that spy or not, Arthur had truly been aroused by their nightly (and daily) dalliances in his room. Truthfully, it was impossible for his lover to not feel pleasure when Merlin wished it so, and he'd always wished the most addictive, mind-blowing pleasure on Arthur, even the times when all he really wanted to do was wrangle his neck. 

Ever since doubt had started to congeal within him, playing havoc with his blind anger and the hatred which had fueled his every action once Arthur escaped Mercia, Merlin had noticed the way the young prince watched him, noticed his annoyance due to Mordred's constant presence by Merlin's side. Another thing very obvious now that he truly paid attention was as how the knights or any others who ventured to Merlin’s room were promptly punished the very next day by either finding themselves burdened down with a truly insurmountable amount of tedious work (the staff) or back-breakingly grueling drills followed mercilessly by patrols and/or guard duty that lasted late into the night (the knights).

Arthur was truly the spoiled child Merlin had always known he was, one who had never had to share his toys or possessions with anyone, and no matter _what_ the truth was of his time in Mercia, Merlin realized that the prince genuinely considered him to be his. Those punishments weren’t aimed at any other knight or maid or serving boy who found themselves in the rooms of the Mercians, no, those punishments were doled out on those who snuck out of Merlin’s room in the wee hours of the morning. This realization made the sorcerer feel things he needed to repress and forget - like the comment the prince had made while still in captivity, the one in which he'd divulged his assurance that once Camelot won the king would give Merlin to Arthur and Arthur would be his master.

There'd also been a lot of kinky sex included in that delusion.

If Arthur truly hadn't been part of a plan in which Merlin was supposed to die, then the young prince probably had planned on doing just as he'd warned he would, and switch their positions as master and sex slave...in which he only let Merlin use his power if the sorcerer pleased him 'exceptionally well'.

Merlin squirmed slightly in his seat, warning his extremities not to react to that realization.

Even if… even if things between him and Arthur weren't as sinister as he'd once thought, Merlin couldn't allow anything to happen between them anymore, even if he was sorely tempted by the idea. Truth was that Arthur was Camelot's Prince, and when this truce failed they'd be enemies once more. Merlin had nearly crumbled when he'd thought that Arthur had used him while all the while planning the war against him, and he wasn't about to do that the prince. Merlin knew that the truce between Camelot and Mercia would crumble, and with this foreknowledge he couldn't engage in any sort of relationship with Camelot's Crown Prince. 

He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t stop to contemplate how he happily used his body and magic and words to manipulate all those around him - all of Camelot if he had to - but not Arthur. There was a weakness there that he could not, would not, accept or acknowledge, so he pushed those thoughts out of his mind before he was forced to deal with them.

That was also why he would play obtuse to Arthur's overtures, and if need be, he'd discourage the prince from having any such inclinations towards him.

Also, Merlin knew he was addictive, and if he were to slip and make the mistake of sleeping with the prince he'd only strengthen the weakened yet existent addiction. Hell, it was a shock that Arthur hadn’t become addicted to him already given how long they’d been together, and how _constant_ their coupling had been.

Noticing King Bayard standing, Merlin stood as well. "With your leave, Your Highness, but I must accompany my king to his quarters and then I will head towards my own. As you know, we return home tomorrow, and it will be a busy day."

Arthur stood rapidly. "I know you better than that Merlin, you don't sleep this early." He cleared his throat before taking in a deep breath and raising his chin. "Why don't I find us some more ale and we can enjoy it in the privacy of your room?" His eyes bore deep into Merlin's. "We have... much... to catch up on."

The sorcerer was taken back by the directness of the offer, and by his own body's intense wish to accept it. Arthur was offering him a night with him, and Merlin's body and magic craved the prince almost desperately. It was disgusting how his body and magic instinctively reacted, it was almost as if _he_ was the addicted one, and that made him furious deep inside. 

The sorcerer pushed back his own traitorous desires and gave the prince a purposely bland smile. "I do not drink while not in Mercia, ally or not. And I would accept your offer to talk, but I'm afraid I already have plans for tonight, and a guest who must be waiting for me in my chambers.” It was not one of the ‘pilgrims’ as he’d taken to calling them, but given Arthur’s obvious knowledge of them Merlin worded it to be purposefully misleading. 

Arthur's face fell, but he quickly forced his features blank. "I won't keep you from your duties then, Court Sorcerer.” The prince then turned away harshly and stormed out of the room. 

Merlin watched him go, surprised to find his heart hurting him, his magic giving a petulant whipping sensation inside of him, letting him know how displeased it was with how he was handling the situation.

His magic had always had a soft spot for Arthur, had always found him the most appetizing and sating of any of Merlin's lovers and sources. Merlin had always wondered what exactly about Arthur drew him and his magic so, captivated them both... and now he wondered if it wasn't the fact that Arthur could be considered a creature of humanity and magic. The uniqueness and rarity to his birth might have called to the uniqueness and rarity in Merlin's own birth. Maybe his magic had felt that it had found something similar to itself, yet completely different, and it drew and fed from the magic that made up Arthur.

"Your mind is not here tonight." Bayard noted as they entered his room. "Has the princeling gotten under your skin?"

Merlin leaned against the wall. "Arthur propositioned me."

"And how did you let the princeling down?" Bayard surprised him by asking.

"How did you know that I-?" Merlin gazed up, surprised.

Bayard gave him a fatherly smile. "You wouldn't do to him what he did to you, Merlin. No matter how hurt or angry you are."

Merlin gazed at his king before shaking his head, lowering his gaze. “I apologize for that disgusting weakness."

“Merlin, I do not consider what that princeling made you feel as a sign of weakness,” Bayard assured him after a moment of silent contemplation. “If there is anything that keeps me from killing him, it is the fact that he managed to awaken those sorts of emotions inside of you, emotions that, up until him, you had never experienced, the lack of which haunted and greatly disturbed you.”

Merlin looked up in surprise. Had Bayard truly noticed that?

The look on the king’s face proved that, yes, he had.

“Arthur… he told me that the story of his running off to join the knights was true, and then the queen confirmed the story without my asking. They could have colluded together and yet I…” Merlin folded his arms over his chest, gaze on his shoes. “It could be a lie, they could be working together to try and get in my head again - that is what I _want_ to believe is happening, but I cannot shake the possibility that everything that happened in Mercia was a matter of chance, not cunning premeditation."

King Bayard paused, before scoffing, shaking his head. “If that is so I feel utterly let down by Camelot. Uther had risen in my standards for what I'd thought a dastardly, cunning, utterly villainous move." Bayard was practically pouting. "A piece of me has just died."

Unable to keep the chuckle silent, Merlin shook his head, grinning brightly. "Goodnight, My King."

"Yes, yes, go see that druid boy who is most definitely waiting anxiously for you in your chambers." King Bayard winked, looking quite the lecherous old man. "Give him my best, or, should I say, _your_ best."  

Merlin paused, eyes widening once more on his king. "I might be the one with the magic in his veins, but My King, you seem to have the power of foresight. That is twice tonight that you know things without my telling you."

Visibly quite smug, Bayard smirked. "Foresight it is not, my son. One does not live this long as a King in Mercia without having a keen eye and noticing things others would not - and without someone as loyal and sharp as Owain to fill in the little parts I may have missed. Every little detail tells a story. That druid boy has made his interest no secret, and tonight, before he escorted his sister away, he sent you a look and you nodded... obviously an offer was given and accepted." He raised an eyebrow. "Also, he truly is a way to solve two problems you are now facing."

Merlin frowned, confused.

"What better way to discourage the princeling than by having his younger brother take his place?" Bayard wanted to know, dispersing some of his evil yet true wisdom. "And as a druid, that boy could be strong enough to handle being your sole lover."

"I haven't considered the boy as a potential lover, My King, much less my sole lover." Merlin frowned.

"It would be beneficial for us if you were to cater to his desires." King Bayard tilted his head in thought. "This way we can make sure that he will not waver in his desire to help us when the time comes."

Merlin shook his head and sighed. "I believe that the promise of lordship is enough to keep his loyalties, My King."

"Merlin, that boy is ripe for the picking and he wants you to do the plucking!” Bayard declared, near dramatically, as he stormed over and placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "He is so ripe that he's releasing pheromones left right and center! If you do not pluck him up soon I myself might fall prey to their allure and wind up buried inside the wrong sibling come my wedding night. My Queen won't take too kindly to her brother having been deflowered by her husband before said husband even deflowered her." He tightened his grip on Merlin's shoulders. "So please, do your king a favor, and save him from the wrath of his bride."

Sometimes Bayard could be the picture of ruthless, cunning, savage foresight and wisdom… and other times he could be utterly ridiculous.

It was a contrast that constantly fascinated Merlin.

"I will consider it,” the sorcerer finally agreed before excusing himself from the king's room, making his way to his own.

The king's words echoed through his mind, and Merlin knew that deep down inside what Bayard said was true. Mordred was the perfect way of solving two problems, but Merlin hesitated. Truthfully he wasn't sure if he was mentally or emotionally prepared to have only one lover once more, especially not with the risks that had already been proven possible. Arthur had been a special case. Arthur. Arthur was special.

Merlin shook his head, removing those thoughts from his mind.

What was important was that he needed to definitely end any sort of relationship he might still have with Arthur, as how things had occurred they'd been unable to truly define anything... yet this meeting gave them some sort of closure, didn't it?

Merlin had lovers.

He needed lovers.

He enjoyed lovers.

He always had and always would.

It was a part of what being him meant.

Fidelity and monogamy had never been important to him or any of the ones he'd slept with, Arthur being the only one who demanded it of him. It was one of the many reasons he'd fascinated Merlin. 

The sorcerer growled and stopped walking, slamming his fist sideways into the hallway wall. He needed to stop thinking about Arthur! Their time had passed! He needed to think of the future, not dwell in the past.

Taking in a deep breath, Merlin hesitated a second in front of the doors to his own room, feeling the presence of the young yet powerful druid inside thanks to Merlin's magic letting him enter, knowing Merlin had agreed to see him in his room. The sorcerer opened the door and entered, said doors closing behind him.

Blue eyes found Mordred, the younger male gazing out of the window before turning towards him. "You came sooner than I expected." 

Casting a spell that would make their words gibberish to anyone trying to listen in, Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he moved to the ever-blazing fire. "You said you needed to speak to me in private." He removed his coat and watched as his magic took control and levitated said piece of clothing to hang it up. "Why would I keep you waiting?"

Mordred was silent as he just watched Merlin, and then he spoke. "I have always known what you are, Emrys. I have since childhood.”

Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly, not having expected this. "Have you now."

The young druid nodded. "My people have prophecies of you."

"Do they." He folded his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. "You've mentioned these so-called prophecies before. I must admit, I'm becoming curious to hear of them."

Mordred walked towards the fire and gazed into the flames. "My people speak of the child promised and born between the Dragonlord and his demon lover, the Succubus Queen." 

Merlin's eyes widened a fraction. Why were the circumstances of his birth so common knowledge amongst the druids that it had become _prophecy?_  

"Nimueh believes that your mother was raped by an Incubus and left impregnated, as is the usual conception of a Cambion, but my people know the truth." Mordred turned to gaze at Merlin, the flames of the fire reflecting in his eyes. "Your mother was unable to bare children, so your father purposely went to the Succubus Queen herself, purposely laid with a creature of evil and darkness."

Merlin couldn't find his voice to speak, so shocked he was to hear the well-guarded truth spoken to him as if it were common knowledge.

"Very few know the Dragonlord bloodline descended from the Old Ones, thus their ability to command and control Creatures of Old, such as dragons,” Mordred continued. "With his bloodline, your father knew that he could impregnate a succubus. He left your mother, sought out the Succubus Queen, and agreed to be her lover if she would bare him a son, and give that child to him to raise as his own. As a Dragonlord, his magic and energy was potent, able to fully sate the Queen... and it is a rare opportunity for a demon such as her to not only find a being strong enough to be her sole mate, but to have that being accept. Not many know that while succubi and incubi feed on many, they are at their strongest when they have found one whom they can feed off of."

 Merlin sat down, unable to hide his reactions to the depth of Mordred's knowledge.

"Demons can mate, and the Queen took your father for her mate, and when she conceived she was sure that he would remain with her, that he'd accepted her as his mate as well. But he hadn't, and as soon as you were born he ended his relationship with her and left with you, bringing the child Hunith had always wanted to her,” Mordred continued on, those flames still visibly flickering in his eyes. "One might ask why Balinor Dragonlord would go to all the trouble of bedding a demon when he could have bedded any common whore and fathered a child for his barren bride. The answer lies in the well guarded secret that Balinor Dragonlord was a cambion himself, the product of his mother's rape by an incubus. As his mother was married to her uncle, the Dragonlord blood was just as strong in her as in him, and Balinor was the first cambion creation of the Dragonlord. He grew up knowing that cambions find it easier to procreate with the demon side of their anatomy than the human...and this is why he turned to a demon when his beloved wife's wish for a child grew so desperate she became ill."

Merlin was silent for a moment, clasping his hands over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. While it was true that his father was part cambion, the genealogy was a bit off, but he decided he preferred to allow this misinformation to remain as was given how much these druids already knew about him. He looked up at the young druid. "I must admit, your prophecies are... impressively detailed." He hadn't said accurate because, well, while most of it had been on the money the last part had gotten quite a bit muddled.

"For a long time the kings of this kingdom have taken our women for their whores and then thrown them aside, treated their bastard children as inferior members of their society." Mordred's eyes flashed with anger. "My own father refuses to refer to me as his son because I was born of the wrong mother, of the lower class filth. He didn't mind her social status while he was hilt deep inside of her, the fact that she bore him three children proves how much he did not mind... yet because we're half druids, half what the court term 'barbaric', we're disrespected. Anna Morgause did not wish to marry Cenred, couldn't stand him, and yet she was forced to be his wife, her feelings didn't matter." The young male stepped forwards. "Just like our people, we do not matter, Emrys."

Merlin frowned, listening to the boy. 

"But you, you are our savior,” Mordred whispered, coming towards Merlin. "The prophecies speak of a time when you will right the wrongs and unite all Albion under one rule. Yours."

Merlin's eyes widened. He rule Albion? No! It was Bayard whom would rule! Bayard!

"The druids will no longer be the lower class citizens whom everyone looks down on because we prefer to live amongst nature, in simplicity. Under your rule, under your reign, we will have the respect we once had before the Pendragons made our men their slaves and our women their whores,” Mordred hissed.

"Let me clear something for you, boy." Merlin's eyes narrowed as he leaned forwards and reached out, grabbing the front of the druid’s shirt and pulling him down awkwardly to face him. "I have no intention of becoming king. I already serve a king, and I will serve him faithfully until the day I die."

"If you serve Bayard, we will serve Bayard as well." Mordred fell to his knees, placing his hands on Merlin's knees. "You speak, we will follow."

Merlin gazed down at the younger male with narrowed eyes.

"Your father was a cambion and your mother the Queen of Succubi, you're more incubus than human." Mordred leaned in, eyes never leaving Merlin's. "You need a constant source of energy, strong energy, and I can give this to you. As a druid, a son of mother earth, I constantly draw energy from her." He slowly raised his hands up Merlin's thighs. "I would happily share this energy with you."

Merlin stared down at the boy in deep contemplation. While his magic preferred Arthur, it was not against this offer in the slightest, reaching out to investigate the druid curiously, and the second his magic touched Mordred’s the druid’s eyes flashed, went unfocused, and his lips parted in a pleasured moan.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and there Arthur stood, bottles of wine in hand. "Mordred, fancy seeing you here." 

Mordred took in a deep breath and stood, eyes focusing once more as he stared at Merlin. "Please consider my offer."

Merlin nodded. He definitely would. 

The young druid gave Arthur a stiff bow and then left, closing the door behind him.

Merlin turned his gaze towards Arthur, once more a little miffed that his magic had just let the prince storm inside when it knew better. "What are you doing here?"

"What does he want you to consider?" Arthur asked his own question, slamming the bottles down on the table.

"He was kneeling between my thighs, Arthur,” Merlin drawled, trying for annoyance, trying to drive the prince out of his room. "What do you _think_ he wants me to consider?"

A flash of ugly emotion crossed those uniquely hued eyes, before Arthur's lips curled in a smile that was probably supposed to be cool and collected, yet looked slightly manic instead. "You don't have to worry, you know. I am not here to try and recover what we once had. Given our current circumstances I know that even if we both desired it, it could not be. Despite being allies you are the right hand of your king, and I am the heir of mine, both of us are bound to our kingdoms and thus it would make no sense to try being lovers."

Merlin clasped his arms over his chest, head tilted slightly as he listened. This is what he knew he wanted to hear, but it still stung slightly, and that annoyed him. All this time he'd been worried about Arthur trying to push the issue, and yet here the prince seemed to have matured much during the time they'd been apart. Merlin wondered what exactly had happened during Arthur's return to Camelot that had accomplished this mighty task.

"But despite that I _refuse_ to allow you touch my brother." That fire was back in those eyes. "I _forbid_ you, Merlin, from replacing me with him. I _forbid_ it!"

And _that_ was the Arthur Merlin knew.

It was almost a relief for the sorcerer, and he allowed his amusement to show on his face as his lips twitched. "Prince you may be, but you are not my regent and I do not take orders from you, Your Highness."

Arthur flinched, glare growing. "I always hated it when you called me that."

"Why do you think I made sure to call you it at least once every day?" Merlin questioned, amusement growing.

Arthur's eyes narrowed more, and yet the annoyance was less harsh and more darkly amused as he shook his head. "It's not wise to provoke a prince in his own castle, you idiotic sorcerer."

Merlin wondered how they'd managed to fall back into their familiar banter so quickly and with such fluid ease. It made half of him incredibly uneasy and suspicious, while the other halfdismissed any concern and instead traitorously enjoyed the familiarity. “What could you possibly do to me? We're allies now, Young Prince." 

Arthur's amusement diminished, glare returning. He seemed to be in a constant flux of rapidly changing emotions right now, all which played visibly on his face. "Stop doing that. Stop referring to me by titles."

"Why?" Merlin steepled his fingers over his chest. "It's the proper thing to do. You're the prince and this is your kingdom."

"Well, if you're so into protocol you should be standing now as I am standing. You should only be seated if I choose to sit!” Arthur snapped at him.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. 

The blonde had a point.

"I beg your pardon, Young Prince." Merlin made a show of standing and giving a little mock bow. "For a moment I forgot I wasn't your master anymore. Do not worry though, I won't forget it again."

Arthur looked about to punch him, he also looked, oddly enough, a bit desperate and panicked, but those two emotions didn’t make much sense in this context. There was a bit of mania in those eyes as well as Arthur’s breathing grew erratic.

Merlin opened his mouth to question him on his health.

" _Shut up_." Arthur stopped him with a growl, stalking towards the slightly taller, thinner male and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, yanking him towards him. "Just _shut up_ before you say something _else_ spectacularly stupid."

And then he kissed him.

Merlin's breath escaped him in a groan as Arthur's lips attacked his, angry and marking. He needed to push the shorter boy away and tell him that they couldn’t do this, but Arthur beat him to it, whispering: " _Only for tonight, just, just forget you're not my master,_ ” into his mouth before deepening the kiss.

And that was when Merlin understood that Arthur was saying goodbye in the only way he knew how when it came to the sorcerer. This was closure, closure they both wanted and, obviously, both desperately needed. It was in this minute that Merlin began to truly believe the possibility that what had happened between them in Mercia hadn’t been planned.

Despite his mind telling him not to, to remember that as a cambion he could be addictive, Merlin reached out, cupping the back of Arthur's golden head and drawing him closer as he took control of the kiss. 

Immediately he could sense a change in the young prince as Arthur whimpered, arching into him as he tightened his grip on the front of Merlin's shirt, opening his mouth, welcoming the assault of Merlin's lips and tongue. The sorcerer raised his other hand to cup Arthur's cheek, raising his head slightly, angling it with as much possession as he once did.

At the mere touch of his skin against Arthur's cheek, Merlin's magic sparked like flames of fire, lighting the dim room, yet not managing to distract the two as they drew closer, their lips and bodies saying all they refused to say with words. Merlin backed away, Arthur followed, and once the back of Merlin's legs hit the bed he turned them around and pushed Arthur down, the prince bouncing slightly on the magnificent bed.

Arthur gazed up at him, eyelids half closed, lips swollen from kisses and nibbles, body flushed in arousal. He leaned up on his elbows, his gaze inviting, near dirty, as he spread his legs in silent provocation.

Merlin chuckled darkly, his eyes flashing gold as his magic betrayed the extreme reaction he felt at having Arthur in his bed once more, even if only for one night. He tried pushing away the memory that this was their last night together, instead focusing on taking off his clothes with determination, never lifting his gaze from the beautiful, golden youth lounged on his bed, beckoning him with his darkening, lust-filled eyes.

There'd been so many nights Merlin had awoken from his dreams, having fulfilled himself better in those night visions than buried deep inside of his many partners... and he'd hated himself and the young prince for it. But now, as he lowered himself to the bed, between Arthur's parted thighs, he couldn't deny that hatred was the farthest thing from his mind. If anything it was extremely bittersweet. 

Arthur slowly laid back down, unusually submissive as Merlin leaned over him, long, lean fingers trailing over the bulge in the young prince's breeches.

The blonde hissed, body jerking slightly, as a single, pale finger brushed over the head through the material. “Merlin..." 

Words didn't even need to be whispered, the sorcerer's magic taking its own action as it disappeared the prince's clothes, leaving the younger male naked to Merlin's hungry gaze.

It'd been so long since he'd seen Arthur, and so Merlin took his time, gaze consuming the willing, beckoning body. The sorcerer leaned over him, his finger trailing over that golden skin, over each ripple of subtle muscle and every dip. It was as if he was trying to reclaim every inch, while he really shouldn't, but Merlin remembered Arthur's words. Tonight he'd forget that he wasn't the boy's master. His touch grew bolder, more claiming, harder. Nails scraped against skin.

Arthur hissed, his cock giving a twitch.

The scent of the young prince's arousal teased at Merlin's nostrils, and he was unable to keep himself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to Arthur's erratically beating heart, deeply inhaling his scent at the same time. His lips worshipped that golden skin, his teeth leaving his mark over everything it touched as his hand slowly made its way down to cup Arthur's beautiful, quivering, weeping member. Arthur tasted of sunshine and a flavor Merlin had never been able to categorize yet had always found addictive. Now, knowing what he did about the circumstances of the prince's birth, Merlin had a deep suspicion that that taste was of magic.

He wondered how he tasted to the prince.

Pushing all thought away, focusing instead on the feel of Arthur's nipple Merlin nibbled on it hard enough to hurt, yet his tongue soothed away any pain.

"Merlin!" Arthur arched, fingers digging deep into Merlin's shoulders.

He could use his magic to stimulate Arthur, yet Merlin refused to let it out, instead hungrily wrapping his own hands around Arthur's cock, the only magic used was to lubricate as he moved his hand in a slow, torturous rhythm. Greedily, he wanted to have tasted and touched everything himself, with his own hands and lips, refused to share the experience... even if it was with his own magic.

Arthur's fingers kneaded Merlin's shoulders, gently nudging him downwards as the sorcerer slowly kissed and nipped his way down the prince's body. Blonde head tilted back, eyes closed tightly, Arthur's teeth bit down so hard on his bottom lip it bled slightly, a trail of red making its way down the side of his mouth.

Merlin stopped his slow descent and stretched up, his tongue reaching out to lap at the trail, healing it before taking Arthur's mouth again as he sped his movement around the boy's viciously twitching cock.

Arthur cried into his mouth, a sound so familiar and missed Merlin could have shed tears.

Instead, the sorcerer focused on stroking, and was caught off guard when suddenly Arthur came all over his hand. The older man blinked, pulling away from Arthur enough to gaze at his soiled hand. An eyebrow raised in curiosity as he returned his gaze to the extremely embarrassed, yet utterly defiant-looking youth. Arthur had reacted as if this was the first time he'd been touched by a man since... well... since a very long time ago... but Merlin pushed away that thought because he doubted that someone in his prime like Arthur could go so long without having a lover. So he just attributed it to the boy's extreme excitement, and it gave him a dark thrill as he brought his thumb to his mouth and flicked his tongue over it, cleaning the digit of the royal seed.

Arthur watched him like a man in a trance, before whispering a soft curse, reaching up to cup behind Merlin's head and bringing him back down in a deep kiss. 

Merlin's cock was on fire, set aflame by the passion and need transmitted in this kiss. His hand reached down blindly and found Arthur's cock once more, surprised to find that it hadn't lost any of its hardness. 

Arthur's hand slid over his and slowed Merlin's pace, showing him how he wanted it, and Merlin (as always) aimed to please the younger male and satisfy his every desire.

The hand cupping the back of Merlin's head was unflinching, keeping him there, as their mouths slid against the other's, tasting each other, nibbling, teasing.

Finally, the sorcerer couldn't handle it any longer, pulling out of Arthur's hold and restarting his mouth's journey down the golden youth's body, kissing and nibbling, though this time much faster than before. His need to be buried deep inside of Arthur was burning intensely at his core, his rigid cock in agony. Merlin moved them, raising Arthur's leg and hooking it around his neck. He pressed kisses to that inner thigh, worshipping it, leaving his marks on Arthur's skin as he stroke himself.

A groan escaped Merlin's lips and he was forced to abandon his own cock as it twitched viciously, his fingers trailing down to Arthur's blinking star. Those long, thing digits teased the rim before sinking deep within, a flash of golden eyes ensuring those fingers found Arthur wet and warm, muscles relaxed. He moved his hand, his wrist shift as he buried his fingers deeper and deeper. He hadn’t meant to be as rough as he was being at this moment, but now that even the smallest part of him was inside of Arthur it was as if he had no control over himself anymore.

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice went low in arousal as he gripped at the sheets, his body rocking from the force behind those fingers.

Unable to control himself, his need, to fully prepare Arthur, Merlin gave into his baser compulsions and yanked his fingers out, replacing them with his cock as he lined up with Arthur's entrance and pushed in urgently. He slid in, finding some resistance in Arthur's muscles yet pushing onwards, the slickness providing ample lubrication as he buried himself to the hilt inside of the younger boy. Magic jolted inside of him, exploding like golden and red fireworks behind his eyes.

The way Arthur's eyes widened betrayed the fact that the prince could actually see the explosions.

Somewhat ashamed at how intensely affected both he and his magic were by being within Arthur once more, Merlin moved, eliciting a cry from Arthur, whose eyelids closed in pleasure as he pushed against Merlin, meeting his thrust with a buck of his hips.

Up until that moment Merlin had deluded himself thinking he could find this feeling with someone else, but now that he was balls deep inside of his boy once more melancholy and anger built inside of him as he realized that he truly had never felt anything near this with anyone else...and he probably never would. There was something about this young prince that made him perfect for Merlin, compatible in ways the sorcerer couldn't even truly comprehend, and that wasn't something one could easily duplicate.

He felt like crying, yet refused to, instead fucking deeper into Arthur, wanting to leave his seed so deep inside the prince that Arthur would never fully be rid of him. He wanted to leave the blonde sore and unable to walk straight for days, unable to ride his horse, unable to breathe without feeling a twinge that would remind him that Merlin’s cock had been inside of him to the hilt - that Merlin had been the one to cum over and over until every bit of him was covered and claimed.

Like an animal wanting to mark its territory, Merlin was overwhelmed by demonic fervor. His thrusts were nearly punishing, his grip on Arthur's hips unforgiving.

Arthur cried and groaned his name, sputtering half-words and commands that didn't make any sense. 

Still it wasn't enough. 

Merlin wanted to fuck him so hard he forgot how to talk.

Arthur cursed, begged, tried to buck his hips, tried to touch himself, clearly desperate for some sort of contact for his weeping cock, but Merlin's magic soared out and trapped the boy's wrists to the bed.

Merlin knew Arthur's body, knew his weaknesses, knew how to use each and every one against him. He shifted his hips, angling his thrusts so they hit that one little spot he knew Arthur absolutely insane. 

"MERLIN!" Arthur cried, body trembling with his pleasured agony, with his struggle against the magic's hold on him. "Merlin stop! Let-let me go! Merlin! Touch me gods dammit! Merlin!" 

The sorcerer was deaf to the orders, continuing to torture the prince by keeping him at the edge of pleasure yet not quite enough to reach fulfillment.

"Merlin!" Arthur sounded near insane, his voice breaking as his body jerked, his eyes closing against the blinding, terrible pleasure. "Merlin please!"

The sorcerer continued to be deaf to the pleas, instead quickening his thrusts, putting more force between them until Arthur's body was jerking with each violent thrust.

"Mer-Mer-Merlin!" Arthur screamed, voice strangled, as suddenly he came even more viciously than the first time, spilling onto his stomach.

Merlin fucked him through the climax, never letting up, never having pity, until with a groan he buried himself as deeply as he could and came, filling the prince with his seed.

Arthur panted, eyes half closed, satisfaction obvious in his eyes. "I've never... not without some sort of friction... I..."

And yet Merlin didn't let him finish as he pulled out. His eyes flashed gold as magic jerked Arthur around, landing him face down on the bed, ass in the air, and then Merlin was behind him, inside of him. He gripped those hips, fingers digging in, purposely leaving their marks, his thrusts resuming their deep, torturous qualities.

Arthur's cries were smothered by the pillow, yet he pushed back just as viciously, meeting each thrust, his hand finding his own cock as he stroked himself.

Draping himself over Arthur's back, Merlin curled him arm around the prince's waist as he fucked him deeper. He didn't trust himself to talk, didn't trust himself not to say something he'd regret, so he continued his silence, letting his body transmit every feeling, no matter how dangerous it might be.

By now Arthur was incoherent and had stopped talking, instead his voice moans and cries, hisses of breath and groans. He fucked his hips back to Merlin's every thrust, his hand working furiously on his cock as something that sounded like broken bits of Merlin's name escaped his lips like a chant.

Merlin bit deep into Arthur's shoulder, anchoring onto him like an animal would as it mounted its mate.

Arthur cried, his body spasming as once more he spilled, this time onto the sheets.

Once more Merlin had no mercy, fucking him through it and enjoying the way Arthur's ass closed so tightly around him, pulling him in deeper, begging for more. Begging for punishment. Begging for his cock to leave him broken and sore and able to feel him days later.

This was the last time. _The last time_.

That thought boiled something inside of Merlin as he reached around, rested his whole body’s weight on Arthur’s back, and took out his anger and frustration on those rosy nipples. Arthur’s arms strained under them as he held their combined weight, his back arched, groans and gasps escaping his lips as Merlin teased and tormented him. Merlin’s fingers twisted, pinched, pulled, never enough to make the blonde truly suffer, but enough to hurt, enough that, for the next couple of days at least, they’d be so bruised, swollen and overly sensitive that any time the material of Arthur’s shirt would brush against the nubs he’d _feel_ it.

“M-Merlin, I _need…_ ” Arthur pleaded desperately as he wiggled his hips back into Merlin’s, proving that the cock not moving inside of him, merely buried deep within was just as much torture as the attention the sorcerer paid solely on his nipples.

“ _Hmmm_?” Merlin unlatched his teeth from Arthur’s shoulder. “What does the little prince need?”

“Stop—-!” Arthur’s annoyance at the title was choked when Merlin gave one - only one - thrust inside of him, nearly causing him to lose his strained hold on the bed with its lack of warning. “ _Merlin_!” It was whined, desperate. “Don’t stop!”

“Stop, don’t stop, which is it?” Merlin taunted as his nail dug into those nipples.

Arthur’s whole body erupted into goosebumps as his straining arms gave up on him so that he was he was shouldering both their weight on his elbows, this new position raising his arse higher, allowing Merlin to automatically slip even deeper within. “ _Don’t stop_.”

“What a selfish little prince,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s shoulder, licking the marks his teeth had left in his skin. “You _want want want_ , what about what _I_ want?”

“ _Take it_ ,” Arthur ordered immediately. “ _Take it—just_ ** _don’t stop_**!”

Within seconds Merlin’s teeth were back in Arthur’s shoulder, this time not only leaving marks but cutting in deep, the prince’s blood gushing freely into his mouth. Magic exploded behind Merlin’s eyes unbidden by him, instinctual, his hips thrusting punishingly, mercilessly, into the screaming prince, his cock viciously carving out its dwelling place and laying claim to every inch of the younger body.

Arthur howled, yowled, sobbed and begged as his body shifted its position, the power behind the thrusts pinning his waist against the sheets. He somehow managed to keep on his elbows while screaming like he was being murdered. It was only the spells on Merlin’s rooms which kept those sounds inside of this room, kept guards from hearing them and trying to enter to save their prince.

Unlike before, where Arthur had been sobbing and ordering and groaning, the blonde wasnow screaming, loudly. The blood Merlin wasn’t fast enough to swallow as it accumulated in his mouth dripped warm down Arthur’s neck, passed the goose bumps all over his body. One very ambitious trail made it way down his chest, between the nipples Merlin was still torturing between his fingers, down Arthur’s stomach, all the way down to his hard, throbbing, dripping manhood.

Arthur was good and trapped between the bed and Merlin’s body, unable to move, to free himself, from Merlin’s dark delight, Merlin’s magic wouldn’t allow it, but from the way Arthur was rubbing himself against the sheets, from the way he managed to hook his ankles around Merlin’s calves and opened himself up more fully to the invasion, the prince had no desire to escape.

Merlin finally detached his teeth from Arthur, watching the last bits of scarlet run down his back and chest. “I want to leave marks all over you,” he whispered threateningly into Arthur’s ear. “I want to mar your pretty body with my teeth, want to take your blood, want to feel its warmth gushing down my throat while my seed fills you.”

Arthur hung his head and yowled in response, rolling his hips as best he could while so completely pinned down. His whole body was covered in a deep red flush and trembling, clearly overwhelmed. “Then _do_ it.”

He did. Even in Merlin’s disoriented need he realized he might’ve gone a little overboard, leaving teeth marks all over those shoulders, that back, that chest, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself, and Arthur had never told him to stop, in fact, the prince had threatened him once or twice _should_ he stop.

All throughout the night Merlin gave the young prince no rest, until they both collapsed, exhausted, as the sun made its appearance.

 

* * *

 

Despite being Bayard's betrothed, for propriety's sake Morgana and Mordred travelled in their own carriage with the serving girl Guinevere, so Merlin was alone with his king and Owain in their carriage after bidding Camelot and its monarchs farewell. Uther, his wife, and Arthur would be journeying to Mercia for the wedding, and Merlin wondered how he'd handle seeing Arthur in Mercia once more... like old times.. and yet completely different at the same time. For a moment, when he'd awoken in bed with Arthur curled in his arms, Merlin had thought that everything that'd happened had only been a very bad dream, but then he'd realized that he wasn't in his chambers in Mercia and the truth had hit him hard. He'd magicked the sleeping prince clean, dressed, and back to his own room before bathing and changing into his journeying clothes, attending breakfast with his king and the monarchs minus their sleeping son.

Merlin had almost thought Arthur would sleep through their farewells, had somewhat wished he would, but Uther must have sent a servant to wake his son because Arthur arrived with a servant, the prince trying his best to hide the fact that he was not only limping but was, quite overall, very sore. He'd managed to cover the hickeys and bruises and bitemarks spectacularly though, and considering they absolutely _covered_ his body that was a feat in itself

The memory gave Merlin a dark thrill. 

Queen Igraine had been worried, but Arthur shrugged off her concerns. Merlin hadn't heard whatever lie the boy had told his mother as to the reason why he was in the state he was in, but she seemed to believe him. Mordred and Bayard, on the other hand, gave Merlin looks. 

"I thought you denied the princeling his little proposition." Bayard finally addressed the situation as they sat across from each other on the carriage an hour after having left the castle.

"I did," Merlin replied, leaning hard against the seat. "And then he showed up in my room. We both agreed that it would be useless to be lovers. It was... it was a way of saying goodbye."

"Some farewell." Bayard snorted in dark amusement. "The boy could barely walk."

From where he sat next to Bayard, Owain bowed his head and tried for a cough but it couldn't hide the sound of his chuckle.

Merlin didn't blame the king's manservant, he himself couldn't stop his lips from curling evilly in satisfaction. "I noticed."

Bayard eyed his Court Sorcerer before clearing his throat. "Do you want me to give him back to you when I take over Camelot? Will that make you happier than the little druid boy?"

Merlin rose his gaze to meet his king's. "It wouldn't be the same, so no. Let Arthur live his life any way that he can once we take his kingdom from him."

"So you have finally given up on the princeling and are ready for the druid boy then." Considering the 'druid boy' was to be Bayard's brother in law, the king truly needed to start referring to him by his name.

Merlin folded his arms over his chest, taking in a breath. "Arthur forbade me from taking his brother. It was... amusing."

Owain whispered something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like a snickered: " _Oh of **course** he did._ "

"What did you answer him?" Bayard asked, eyebrow raised, shooting a look from his amused manservant to his amused sorcerer.

"That _you_ are my king," Merlin replied truthfully.

The Mercian monarch was silent a moment before chuckling, shaking his head. "That I am." 

Merlin gave his king a smile. "The past is now behind us, we now have to concentrate on the war, and what our next move will be."

"A year or so of peace will be intriguing," Bayard commented as he contemplated the very thought of what that might be like. "I will use it to ensure my queen conceives an heir." 

Merlin tilted his head, smiling at the thought of Bayard with a son in his arms. He shared a look with Owain, who seemed just as intrigued at the idea of Bayard with a child as Merlin did, before Merlin's gaze returned to Bayard. "A noble campaign if ever there was one."

Bayard returned Merlin's large smile. "And I will see you settled down with a sole companion even if it kills me."

"Don't let it kill you, sire," Owain mumbled in a long-suffering way.

"It's a figure of speech, Owain," the king harrumphed.

Merlin's lips twitched as the king and manservant got into a bit of an argument over this. He shook his head and sighed, looking out of the window of the carriage, giving them a bit of privacy. It ended with Owain convincing Bayard words shouldn't be taken lightly, and the king agreeing merely to end the argument with the stubborn younger man.

They continued the trip in silence - the sorcerer trying to accustom himself to the relationship between him and Arthur being truly over, the king worried it truly wasn't, and the manservant shrewdly watching, as was his way.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure?" 

"I have studied him while he was here, and a source of mine has confirmed that he is of mixed parentage." Nimueh nodded to her king, relieved to have an explanation as to why her attack on Merlin had failed so spectacularly. "It explains his godlike power, his mother was named Hunith and from what I can tell she was related to the Dragonlord family that was expelled from Camelot. Having no doubt fallen victim to an incubus, the child born of mixing Dragonlord and demon blood... that child would be inhuman, would be unprecedented. No human would have lived through the spell I cast on him, my king... it is our proof that my source is correct and that Bayard's Court Sorcerer has incubus and Dragonlord blood flowing through his veins."

King Uther leaned forwards at this unexpected and truly disturbing revelation. "It would also explain this magnetism the boy exudes. It was enough to draw in and keep Arthur enchanted... and you saw Mordred... he's under the same lustful spell." He groaned and covered his face. "Not to mention a small part of our own knights! Knights with experience on the battlefield fighting against Mercians!" Knights they'd had to send with Morgana as her 'personal guard in Mercia' due to the fact that Camelot could not be sure they had not been corrupted during Merlin's stay in the castle. 

"It's not a spell, Your Highness." Nimueh shook her head. "Its a pheromone of sorts, he secretes it naturally, without an ability to control it. Cambions are rare, but that is fortunate as they are extremely powerful, even more powerful when they have fixed lovers. They draw energy from sexual relations or even sexual arousal, leaving the partner drained and many times fatigued."

"That's ridiculous, I am not fatigued." Arthur growled, standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "I'm sore, I hurt all over, but I like that."

Uther felt utterly uncomfortable and maybe a little hysteric, but managed to calm himself. He worried about the effect Merlin had had on his son, the boy barely recognizable from the one he'd been before he'd snuck away and gone to war. "Son, it isn't normal to enjoy pain like that, especially not when, uh, inflicted, by another man."

"In Camelot, maybe." Arthur couldn't help but reply with a snort of derision as he looked away resolutely, the action unknowingly revealing a bit of what appeared to be teeth marks which had been left against his skin.

Nimueh and Uther shared a look before the king turned to his son. They had long tried to make Arthur see the truth about his captor, to turn him against him, but when it was obvious that that would never work, they'd found a different tactic. Still, Uther could not understand his son's behavior, especially after having realized the man wasn't even human, not really. "He's feeding from you. You _do_ realize this?"

"Better me than someone else," Arthur replied immediately, eyes narrowed as they returned to Uther and Nimueh in warning. "Especially not Mordred."

"Mordred would make a very agreeable source for a cambion. As a druid he is constantly in communion with the earth and her energies, and the cambion would be able to feed well on him without tiring or draining him as much as he would someone else." Nimueh did not back down from the prince's displeasure, which made sense, as she served the king and not the prince. "If I know this, King Bayard will too, and as Court Sorcerer we give an oath of complete obedience to our monarchs. Because of this oath we are forced to do whatever our monarch wishes, even if we ourselves do not wish to do this." 

"Merlin is not going to take Mordred!" Arthur snapped viciously at her.

"Our Court Sorcereress makes a compelling point Arthur, reign in your temper," Uther chided his son, a little taken aback at the violence the golden haired youth had suddenly displayed at the thought of the sorcerer bedding Mordred. "We must be prepared for the cambion to take Mordred, whether it be Bayard's order or not."

Arthur snarled at both his father and Nimueh.

"But this is a good thing." Uther stood and pressed on before Arthur could interrupt him.  "If Merlin took Mordred, then it would put both Morgana and Mordred in bed with the two most powerful people in Mercia, and it will make it easier for them to fulfill their mission and bring Mercia crumbling from within. That would work in your favor in the long run, so I would just grit my teeth and bear it for now if I were you."

Arthur folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "What's wrong with peace, father?"

"If there is a Mercia you will never have him, Arthur." Uther turned to his son. This was the tactic that he and Nimueh had decided upon once they'd realized they could not turn Arthur against the Mercian Court Sorcerer. If they couldn't use hatred or resentment, they'd use greed, possessiveness and desire. "He is bound to Bayard as long as the king lives. He will never be yours." 

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he was forced to look away, backing down, like he usually did, once this point was brought up.

"Once Mercia belongs to Camelot, he will belong to us, to you." Uther continued, relieved that he still had some control over his son, even if only barely. "We both get what we want." 

"They do not plan on keeping the alliance either," Nimueh continued, stroking the fire Uther's words had built in the blonde. "It will only be time before they do something and break the alliance, and Mordred and Morgana will help hasten that goal."

Arthur gazed between Court Sorcereress and King, before shaking his head and turning his back on them, heading towards the window. He gazed out in the direction of Mercia, mind clearly on the sorcerer who must still be traveling through Camelot.

The young prince folded his arms over his chest and took in a deep breath, looking sad, sullen, resentful, jealous and longing as those Pendragon Blue eyes peered out into the distance. It was clear to the king and the sorceress that the prince wished he was the one traveling to Mercia instead of Mordred. As always, his feelings for Merlin unnerved them, but for now their goal was one: the fall of Mercia.

Only _now_ had the war truly begun.


End file.
